


There Is No Loch Ness Monster in Maine

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Lake Placid AU, M/M, Ridiculousness, cameos by other PacRim characters, cursing, graphic depictions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 31,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look! It's the Lake Placid AU that no one in their right mind would want! But it's a bunch of salty jerks forced to work together against a greater danger, and that's pretty much Pacific Rim right down to the ground.</p><p>When Chuck Hansen, paleontologist for a prestigious New York museum, catches his boss <i>in flagrante</i> with his dad, he's quickly shipped off to investigate a spurious report of an animal attack in Maine. There, he meets the snarky county sheriff, Mako Mori, and the "the only words I have are salty" Fish and Game officer, Raleigh Becket. Sarcastic shenanigans ensue, during which there might be a giant murderbeast swimming around some random lake in Maine. And Chuck gets routinely dunked in the lake and pelted with severed heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While, yes, this was an entirely self-indulgent and hilarious delve into an AU from a movie that, frankly, not everyone loves, writing it really got me thinking about what these characters would have been like if not for the kaiju. If Mako's parents hadn't died in the Tokyo attack and she'd never met Stacker Pentecost. If Herc hadn't been forced to decide between his wife and his son. If Chuck hadn't been eaten alive with survivor guilt and anger and the need for revenge. If Raleigh hadn't lost his brother.
> 
> If none of them had been forced to desensitize themselves to war and killing so they could continue saving the world.
> 
> I hope that meta shows here. They're just people, but they're still the people we love. I hope.
> 
> Also, there are a few Japanese phrases. I've put in hovertext translations, but since that doesn't always work on mobile, I'll put them in the end notes for each chapter, too.

The signs around the county might well read Black Lake, but to Mako Mori, sheriff of Aroostook County, Maine, they should have read Lake Placid. The lake was vast and dark and still, the surface only rarely troubled by feeding perch or a landing bird or the occasional swimming moose, and she unashamedly loved it. When she needed to still her mind, she thought of the lake, thought of its calm and untroubled surface, and immediately felt that tranquility infuse her being.

Thus, the obnoxious jerk sent by Fish and Game to study the lake's beaver population causing ripples in her lake did not make her a happy sheriff.

"Can you believe I actually get paid to tag beaver?"

She eyed him, unimpressed. "Really."

He paused his fiddling with the air tank to narrow an eye at her. "Was that sarcasm? Because I know how you local law enforcement feel about us Fish and Game guys, with your one-word sarcastic answers."

One eyebrow rose. "Golly."

Trying not to look as irritated as he likely was, the guy grunted. "Lemme guess. You're one of those 'What an animal does in the wild is its own business, so long as it doesn't do it to a man' people. Like Mark Twain said?"

The raised eyebrow stayed right where it was. "Shizen wa kugi no yō ni hageshīdesu / shikashi, yubi no yō ni sensaina." The faintest hint of a smirk touched one corner of her mouth. "I prefer Inuo Taguchi's thoughts on nature."

Muttering under his breath -- she caught "freakin foreigners" and "probably doesn't even know who Mark Twain is" -- the jerk pulled on his goggles and slung his SCUBA gear around his back. Finally, he seemed ready to backflop into the water. He gave her one last look and opened his mouth, then apparently saw exactly how little shit she was willing to put up with from him and popped in his mouthpiece. As he rolled backward off the rowboat, she finally let herself smirk.

She knew quite well how folks from Maine felt about outsiders. Even born Americans who moved here from elsewhere in the States were never truly accepted as being "from Maine". However, the people around Aroostook County had been kind, if a bit standoffish at first, to her and her mother, and she couldn't really complain.

Staring across the unrippled surface of the lake, she let herself remember leaving Japan all those years ago. She was ten years old, and her father had just died of cancer. Grief-stricken, her mother had closed her eyes, spun the globe, and pointed to a random spot. Maine. So, they had moved here and begun the arduous task of making themselves a new home.

It wasn't easy. They both spoke English, but at first, it was heavily accented from lack of practice. A few stores had refused to sell them anything, claiming they couldn't understand them and looking at them with ill-disguised suspicion. School was especially hard. Children were often even more cruel than their elders, having had less time to learn things like kindness, tact, and to avoid making a scene.

However, after the first time she put a much older boy on the ground with her knee firmly in his back without so much as messing up her hair, no one tried to physically bully her. Her father had been a much-revered swordmaker in Japan. She'd been practicing katas and learning swordplay since she could walk. The local hicks took notice.

She also didn't let anyone else be bullied, which earned her a certain amount of respect that made her middle school and high school years much easier. By the time she left for college to train in law enforcement, she and her mother -- who had a reputation for bringing too much food to the sick and needy and who tended her own extensive gardens so diligently that she consistently won both harvest and floral competitions -- were accepted members of the community. Not quite "from Maine", of course, but smiled upon instead of glared at. Welcomed at community events instead of quietly shunned.

A splashing noise caught her attention, and she turned to look toward the nearest beaver's den, where she assumed the Fish and Game guy had gone. There were ripples on the surface, spreading out in quiet concentrics, but nothing else. He must have followed a beaver too close to the surface, perhaps. Kicked a little too vigorously.

Her attention strayed off to the bigger expanse of the lake again, her thoughts quieting. Yes, when she'd returned to Aroostook County after her schooling, the local sheriff hadn't hesitated to hire her on as an officer. She had apparently rescued his daughter from a too-handsy date at a school dance once, and he'd never forgotten it, though she had. And the rest of the community seemed to just shrug collectively and say, "Yeah, seems like a good fit for our little Mako" and went along its way.

And if her crew of deputies was a bit more diverse than might be expected of a remote county in Maine, well... she wasn't complaining. And neither were most of the county residents who had elected her.

Another splash dragged her out of her memories again. This time, it was punctuated by a... burble. Definitely a cut-off vocalization of some sort. On her feet in a flash, she spun with her hand on the gun at her hip. Nothing but bigger ripples. And... bubbles? Headed toward the boat?

The diver cleared the surface again, flailing and screaming for help, and she reached for the outboard to crank it on. Before she could even give the first pull, though, the diver lurched toward the boat. He wasn't swimming, though. He was... being pulled. Dragged.

And screaming. Oh, God, those screams.

Her Glock was in her hand and pointed at the water, but she saw nothing. Nothing but the churning lake and the screaming Fish and Game guy who may be a jerk but didn't deserve whatever was happening right now. As he came closer, she abandoned her gun and knelt to lean out over the edge of the boat, hoping to catch one of those flailing hands as he went by.

But he didn't go by. A good ten feet out, he was hauled, still screaming, under the water.

Ripples. The boat rocked gently on the disturbance. His SCUBA tank surfaced a few feet away and bobbed uselessly. Heart thundering, she searched the impenetrably dark water, hoping for any explanation for what the hell had happened, any sign of the diver.

Just as she leaned out over the water again, he surfaced right in her face, screaming and grasping at her and at the edge of the boat, and nearly pulled her in with him. Thankfully, her body acted without consulting her brain, and she grabbed him around the ribs, trying like hell to lever him up and in before he capsized them. He surely couldn't be that heavy, but it felt like she was trying to lift the entire lake with him.

Then, suddenly, he erupted out of the water as if he weighed no more than a feather, and she flipped as she pulled to lay him out on the boat's floor. It took her a full second to realize why he'd suddenly seemed so light.

There was only half of him left.

From the waist down, he was simply... gone. What was left of his intestines unraveled out into the bloody water sloshing around at her feet, the meat of him glaring red against the pale white skin exposed by the torn-open wetsuit. For the first time in her life, Mako Mori was one startle away from screaming her head off.

Then, the diver snatched her hand. Jesus meek and mild, he was still alive.

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a quiet gasp, and then... he was dead.

The lake lay quiet and serene around her.

But oh, that quiet was a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Nature is as fierce as a nail / but as delicate as a finger


	2. Chapter 2

Chuck Hansen had always loved dinosaurs. As a child, he'd often dreamed of being on a dig in some far-off place and discovering the skeleton of some previously unknown species. In his mind, he was a cross between Ian Malcolm and Indiana Jones, but with dinosaurs instead of maths and artifacts. It seemed his dreams would come true when, during his second year at university, he was handpicked for a prestigious field expedition, thanks to his stellar grades and his fierce competition with the other paleontology students.

Unfortunately, he hadn't lasted three days before dehydrating, getting a blistering sunburn, coming down with some horrific local illness that involved more diarrhea than he was comfortable remembering, and being bitten by a venomous snake and nearly losing his left leg.

After that, he was perfectly happy in the lab, examining and identifying samples sent in from the field. Thus, when his old man decided to visit an old RAF friend who lived in New York and further decided to stay, Chuck wasn't averse to interviewing for a position at the old friend's museum. His mum hadn't been thrilled about him moving so far away -- since the divorce, Chuck had always considered her house "home" and stayed with her when he wasn't at university -- but she was very proud when he was hired on as the museum's new paleontology expert before the ink was even dry on his degree.

Then again, who _wouldn't_ be proud to say their son worked at the American Museum of Natural History?

However, none of that life experience prepared him for walking into the director's classy office on a normal, boring Tuesday morning to find Stacker Pentecost, museum director and Chuck's boss, enthusiastically boning someone on that broad, classy oak desk. Or for Pentecost to jerk away and reveal that the person being so energetically boned was... Chuck's father.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and closed the door behind him, then made his way down to his lab space in a fugue, trying desperately not to re-hear the noises or... re-see anything. Trying to unsee.

It... it didn't work.

Dammit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [royalelephant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/royalelephant/pseuds/royalelephant) for less formal Japanese for Mako and Raleigh here!

Raleigh Becket didn't join the Maine Department of Fish and Game to look into unexplained deaths. He joined because he loved animals and wanted to protect the environment. And because Yancy had always hated Alaska, was an avid Stephen King fan, and wanted to give the East Coast a try once Jazmine was happily settled in college and on her own. But mostly because he loved animals and nature.

And yet, as he eased his truck into to what looked distressingly like a crime scene, what with all the county deputies and EMTs swarming around, Raleigh acknowledged that sometimes, man and nature didn't mix. And in Maine, where bears and moose and other large wild animals roamed in the vast tracts of untamed timber, that clash sometimes ended up in the animal's favor.

So he took a deep breath and climbed out of his truck. A tiny woman -- Japanese, unless he missed his guess -- waited for him with crossed arms and an unimpressed look on her face, and he could only assume this was the Sheriff Mori who had called in the report.

They shook hands and eyed each other, and Raleigh could almost hear Yancy snickering at him. Whatever. He didn't have time for small talk with someone who looked about as thrilled to see him as she would be an IRS agent here for an audit.

"Have you had any recent bear attacks?"

She rolled her eyes. Jesus. Was she always this salty?

"Bears don't attack people underwater." Under her breath, she muttered to herself. "Nande kitaishita nano, watashi?"¹

Surprised, he responded without thinking about it. "Sukunakutomo biibaa to iwanakatta deshou."²

Her eyes widened, and he could practically see the gears turning, wondering how some hick in Maine actually knew enough Japanese to throw shade at her. Then, she grudgingly smiled a bit and bowed her head, then tipped it toward the shoreline, where an ambulance waited.

Where the body awaited.

Gearing himself up, he unzipped the bag. Other than a bit of blood around the mouth, the guy didn't look too bad. Walt Lawson, he thought. Not an officer he'd spent much time around, thankfully.

Unfortunately, the body bag looked awfully flat where the legs should be, so he unzipped a little further and... nothing. The torso just... stopped.

Jesus.

He looked away to settle his stomach, then shot the sheriff a quick look. "Is that how he came out of the water?"

She swallowed hard, not looking at the body bag, and nodded.

"You were there?"

"I tried to get him out. This was all that was left."

Okay, so she may be just as sarcastic as he was, but he couldn't help a moment's swift sympathy. "I'm sorry. That can't have been...."

She nodded without looking at him. Instead, she stared across the broad, flat expanse of the lake. "It wasn't a bear, Officer Becket. From the surface, I saw nothing but the diver thrashing. It was... something in the lake. Something that never surfaced."

He believed her. She was too sure and the diver was too neatly torn in half to argue.

"Maybe the ME can give us a better idea."

Finally, she looked at him, her eyes dark in the noonday sunlight. "I hope so, officer. I truly do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes the hovertext feature doesn't work on mobile:
> 
> 1\. Why did I expect better?  
> 2\. At least I didn't suggest it was a beaver.


	4. Chapter 4

Chuck sat hunched over his sample tray, pick and brush busily extracting the fossil from its hardpacked soil base. It wasn't field work, but it was delicate and absorbing and kept his mind off the eye-gouging scene in his boss's office.

"Mr. Hansen."

Fuck. Speak of the devil. Chuck didn't look up from his work, though he did put down the pick. No sense damaging the sample because he was angry.

"Hullo, Stacks. How's life treating you? Nothing but roses and caviar and my old man's ass, yeah?"

Jesus. He'd never had a shut-off switch, but he wasn't usually quite _that_ flippant with his boss. His mum would be shaking her head at him. But smirking a bit, too.

"Please, Mr. Hansen, this is business."

"Do you call him that whilst you're fucking him?"

Pentecost cleared his throat. "Mister." A deliberate pause. "Hansen."

Grudgingly, he put down his brush, though he still didn't look up.

"There's been an accident in Maine. A diver from Fish and Game was killed by something in a lake. It was very likely a bear attack, but the ME who examined the remains found... a tooth. Embedded in the body. Apparently, it's not like any tooth he's ever seen and appears to be... potentially prehistoric."

Rolling his eyes, he picked the brush up again and went back to work. "A dinosaur tooth. Right. That must be it then."

"I want you to go there."

He paused. "You what now?"

"You are a paleontologist, yes? This would be your specialty."

Incredulous, he twisted to stare up at the vision of doom hovering overhead. Chuck was tall, but Stacker Pentecost had always been taller still. Especially whilst Chuck was sitting down. Cheating bastard.

"You want me to go to Maine?"

"I believe that's the point I was trying to express."

He grunted. "I don't do field work. Why not send--"

"You are our dinosaur specialist, Mr. Hansen. If anyone can quickly and quietly prove this tooth isn't from a dinosaur so they can find the real culprit and put it down, it's you."

He blinked. "You're taking the piss."

"I am not."

Jesus. The wanker was serious. And then, it hit him.

"Oi, hang on a minute. This was Dad's idea, wasn't it?"

Pentecost's jaw clenched.

"Oi, it bloody well was!" Huffing an incredulous laugh, he dropped the brush again and stood up right in his boss's space. "I see it, now. Get me out of town for a few days. Wait 'til I cool off to have the big conversation, yeah?"

"That has nothing to do with this, Mr. Hansen."

"Bullshit." Crossing his arms, he glared. "You know I don't do fieldwork, and even if I did... Maine? Do I look like a fucking lumberjack to you?"

"Chuck."

His eye twitched, but he didn't respond. Pentecost had never once called him by his first name.

"I need you to go to Maine and debunk this dinosaur business."

"I'm not going to Maine."

"The arrangements have already been made. Your plane leaves in two hours. I suggest you go home and pack."

Jesus. He _was_ going to Maine.

His old man was a dead man.


	5. Chapter 5

Mako stared at the man clambering down out of the Cessna with severe misgivings. This was not what she'd expected when Officer Becket informed her he'd requested assistance from the Museum of Natural History. She supposed she'd expected someone like that nice Dr. Gottlieb, who ran the antiques store in town, but this....

Young, broad at the shoulders, and narrow at the hips, he could almost be a linebacker but for the suit. It was a casual suit of some lightweight gray material, but a suit nonetheless. And with that pale skin and those freckles, she began to hope he'd brought sun screen or he might burst into flames after ten minutes in the late summer sun.

Finally, the man stood on his own two feet on the tarmac, and the pilot handed down a messenger bag and one of those suitcases on casters with an extending handle. The supposed expert took both with a mutter that left the pilot rolling his eyes, then slammed the door shut, slung the messenger bag across his chest, and walked away without so much as a wave, wheeling his rolly suitcase behind. Great. Another jerk to deal with today.

Although Officer Becket didn't seem so much a jerk as... taciturn. A man who was stingy with his words.

Still pretty sarcastic, though.

"Oi, you're the sheriff?"

That was not a New York accent. Not at all what she was expecting. Raising an eyebrow, she put out a hand. "Sheriff Mako Mori. And you are?"

His hand swallowed hers, but to his credit, he didn't try to overpower her, like some men did. He simply shook and let go. "Chuck Hansen. Paleontologist."

She tilted her head toward her Jeep. "I can take you directly to the hospital, or would you rather--"

"Hospital's fine." To his credit, he winced. "Sorry. Just... I hate flying and I hate timber, and I'm fairly certain that, given enough exposure, I'll hate Maine. So the sooner we get this over with, the better."

After an incredulous huff, she shook her head and headed for the Jeep. On one hand, Mr. Hansen's short manner meant she wouldn't be expected to make idle chitchat all the way to the hospital. On the other... what an asshole.

Thankfully, the hospital was relatively close to the airstrip, so they were able to avoid any further conversation until Mr. Hansen pulled up short as Mako reached for the pertinent door.

"Oi, that's the morgue."

Frowning, she eyed him. "That _is_ where the coroner brings dead bodies."

He blinked, then licked his lower lip. He was... nervous? Sighing, she backed off her own sarcasm.

"Do you want me to bring the tooth out here for you?"

Shaking off his hesitation, he squared his shoulders. "It's fine. Just... wasn't expecting... never mind. Let's get this over with."

She made the introductions, and she had to admit that, once he had the tooth in hand under a good, strong light, Mr. Hansen became much more the scientist she'd expected.

"This is definitely not a bear tooth. It's reptilian." He twisted the tweezers to look at the root. "And definitely not a fossil. This is a healthy, fresh tooth that's just been pulled out." He turned a strangely giddy look on the ME. "You're sure you got this out of a body?"

The doctor grunted and gestured toward the sheeted remains. "Yes. I'm sure."

Some of the giddiness faded. "Right. Maybe I should--"

"I wouldn't."

The words were out before Mako even thought about them, but she didn't regret them. Or the quiet, almost nauseated tone of them.

Of course, now that he'd decided on a course of action, Mr. Hansen wasn't about to be dissuaded. "I can handle it, yeah? Then I wanna get a look at this under magnification if there's a microscope about."

Shrugging, the ME pulled the sheet away, revealing the truncated corpse. Even cleaned up and under harsh examination lighting, the wrongness of so much missing flesh was jarring. Needless to say, Mr. Hansen made an urking sound in his throat and turned away.

After a long moment, he finally sucked in a harsh breath. "Jesus. Not gonna lie. That's fucking horrible." Swallowing hard, he shot Mako a look. "How long did the attack take?"

Lifting her chin, she considered. "Seconds. No more than ten."

"And you didn't see anything."

She shook her head. "The lake was quiet. Then it wasn't. And he was dead."

"Jesus." The tweezers he still held seemed to be forgotten as he shot a glance at the body the ME had thoughtfully covered again. "I need to see this lake."

She blinked. "Mr. Hansen, I don't think--"

"None of these pieces make any sense, sheriff. I need context,yeah?"

Sighing, she gave up pretending to have any control over the situation. She could only hope this Australian-sounding New York museum scientist in his casual gray suit had thought to bring along a pair of hiking boots.

Somehow, she guessed he hadn't.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a picturesque town, Chuck supposed. Touristy, but in a classy, quaint way, rather than a brazen or gimmicky one. Logic dictated that he'd be well-served by checking into the B&B the museum had comped for him and taking the week to relax and get his head around the fact that his old man was fucking his boss and had been for God knew how long. That Chuck might well have gotten the job he and his mum were so proud of because of it.

Fuck that. He hated nature, but the last thing he wanted to do was sit around and wonder if he was the paleontology wunderkind he'd always thought or not.

Unfortunately, the sheriff was talking, and he was pretty sure he'd missed a significant portion of her speech. And by the look on her face, she knew it.

"As I was saying, no one lives within twenty miles or so of the lake except for a rich old headcase who sells home remedies online and his business partner. They live right on the lake and claim its waters are naturally healing." She rolled her eyes. "Teenagers sometimes sneak in and skinny dip, but no one has reported seeing anything unusual, and no disappearances have been reported."

Appreciating the recap, even if it was delivered with annoyance, he nodded and loaded his suitcase into the back of the jeep with the sheriff's equipment. "You talked to the headcase, then?"

She eyed him, then scooted his suitcase off to one side to make one of her own cases more accessible. "Not yet. I would already be there, but someone wanted to go to the hospital first."

Grunting, he crossed his arms and fixed her with a glare. "Oi, you got some kinda problem with me?"

Turning to him, she propped one hand on the Jeep and one hand on her hip. "Frankly, Mr. Hansen, I have no idea what you're doing here. The museum sent you to look at a tooth. You've done that."

One eyebrow rose. "Clear this up for me: do you have a problem with me or with the museum?"

"Look--"

"Or do you just not like outsiders in general?"

She scoffed. "Yes, the female Japanese sheriff of a small town in Maine has a problem with gaijin."¹

Despite himself, he snorted. Unfortunately, before he could admit that, yeah, he might have overshot the mark on that one, a flying insect of some sort buzzed right in his face, and he dodged away with a few choice curses whilst digging in his messenger bag for his travel-size can of Raid. He fucking hated flying insects. Especially ones that buzzed.

He didn't bother checking the expression on the sheriff's face as he sprayed the general vicinity. She could look incredulous all she wanted, so long as the bugs stayed the hell away.

He did, however, take a good, hard look at the hardware revealed when the good sheriff opened the case she'd moved his suitcase to access.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

"A modified Cobray M79LF 37mm launcher." She caressed the weapon with gentle fingers more suitable to a lover's touch. "One shot with this, and whatever's out there will cease to be a problem."

He blinked, starting to seriously wonder if he'd somehow strayed into a Stephen King novel. "Why would you even have that?"

Raising one eyebrow, she looked at him with perfect seriousness. "Have you ever seen a full-grown moose? They are enormous, and when in rut, they are incredibly dangerous."

He blinked. "Jesus Christ."

He should have stayed in New York. He absolutely should not step foot in a godforsaken wilderness where a fucking grenade launcher might actually be useful, normal equipment for a goddamn camping trip.

Unfortunately, before he could back out, a pick-up truck hauling a boat pulled up alongside the sheriff's Jeep, and a long, tall, sandy-blonde drink of water climbed out in thigh-hugging jeans and a short-sleeved, button-down khaki shirt that strained at the shoulders and cross the chest. Who the fuck...?

"Sheriff, if you're all set, we should get going while there's still plenty of light."

That deep, slow voice felt like a warm finger stroking down his spine and he shivered with the promise of it. This was not a complication he needed.

Thankfully, Sheriff Mori went back to her salty self, as if the two had already tangled before. Or as if everyone in Maine was as much an asshole as Chuck freely admitted to being.

"We're saved, Officer Becket." With a patently phony smile, she gestured at Chuck. "The American Museum of Natural History sent us official back-up. I feel safer already."

Jesus.

Getting ahold of himself and remembering that he was, indeed, an outsider, Chuck tried a smile and offered his hand. "Chuck Hansen. I'm a paleontologist."

The tall drink of water looked him up and down -- what, did he have dirt on his trousers? -- and grudgingly shook with a no-nonsense double pump. "Raleigh Becket, Maine Department of Fish and Game. So the museum sent... you?"

His back stiffened. "Oi, seriously, am I wearing a goddamn sign or something?"

Sheriff Mori piped in, looking suspiciously amused. "He is at least as sarcastic as you, Officer Becket. You two should get along famously."

With that, she went around to the driver's side of her Jeep and left them to it. Before he could decide if he felt abandoned or not, the Fish and Game wanker shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you go with us."

Definitely abandoned. "Why not? The sheriff said I could go. What's the drama?"

The wanker -- Becket, he'd called himself -- raised an eyebrow. "In a case like this, Fish and Game supercedes local authority."

He crossed his arms, more annoyed than he should be. "Why supercede, then? Might come in handy to have an expert on hand--"

"Sir, please. This is not a fact-finding expedition."

"I get that. I'm just saying--"

"It's not a school field trip to a protected dig. There are no dinosaur bones out there waiting for your toothbrush."

His jaw clenched. "Well, aren't you subtle? Does your condescension dial go to eleven or what?"

Becket's jaw clenched just as hard. "A man has already been killed, sir. I'm sure you're just trying to help, but it could be dangerous out there." The wanker smirked, the expression as phony as the sheriff's smile had been. "I'm sorry you got all dressed up for nothing, but you're better off saving the Raid for another day."

He rolled his shoulders, half-tempted to deck the smug bastard and be done with it. "I was wrong. That fucker goes all the way to twelve."

The sheriff suddenly appeared, not quite between them but close enough. "He's good, Officer Becket. You have to give him that one."

Then, she was gone again, and while he usually hated being interrupted, he had to admit that she'd probably just prevented a fight right here on the street. So, he took a deep breath and tried to lower his shoulders and his red.

"Oi, I won't get in the way, yeah? I won't make waves. I'm just trying to help you lot figure out what actually happened here."

The bloke seemed poised to fire back with snark, but something behind Chuck caught his attention first. frowning, he turned to see what the new drama might be, only to see some proper-looking chap with a cane and a limp making his way up the incline.

"Sheriff? Sheriff Mori?"

"Dr. Gottlieb."

Chuck blinked at the complete change of tone. For both him and the Fish and Game bloke, she'd been sharp-edged and snarky. But for this British-sounding sod, whoever he was, she was downright pleasant and welcoming.

"There you are, sheriff. I've been looking for you."

The sheriff smiled softly and tilted her head down a bit. What the...?

"What can I do for you, doctor?"

"Honestly, I'm hoping you can put my mind at ease. The rumor 'round town is there's a monster in Black Lake."

Her smile widened. "Not at all, doctor. We're investigating an accident, yes, but anything else is mere speculation."

The stodgy git sighed with relief. "Wonderful. I was told a man was bitten in half, and I've actually had three people ask if I have any books on the Loch Ness monster this morning alone."

Chuck watched, as astonished as Becket seemed to be, as the sheriff huffed a soft laugh and tilted her face down again.

"There _was_ an accident, but I can assure you that we are not dealing with a sea monster, Dr. Gottlieb."

"I knew I could count on you, sheriff. Thank you so much for your time."

Smiling, the Brit tipped his trilby at the sheriff, nodded genially at both Chuck and Becket, then limped away. Chuck watched him go for a moment, then exchanged a "what the fuck?" glance with Becket, then eyed the sheriff with curdled amusement.

"I take it you favor the older gent, then?"

The soft smile she'd held onto disappeared, and she eyed him with new disdain. "No. Only smarter ones."

"Oi--"

But Becket, apparently caught between amusement and annoyance, put up both hands. "Can we just... get going?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow, eyeing the bloke warily. "Me, too?"

Sighing heavily, the rotten sod let his hands fall. "I have no doubt I'll regret it, but... yes. You, too."

"Your vote of confidence is overwhelming."

"Thank God you're not riding with me."

Forcing a grin, Chuck slammed the Jeep's back end closed. "On that, Officer Becket, we agree."

Without another word, they parted ways. Probably for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Outsiders/foreigners


	7. Chapter 7

It took an actual boatride to get to Hannibal Chau's house/factory on the lake, but while the silence on the boat was probably awkward, Raleigh couldn't help but be glad for it. The sheriff being salty, he could deal with, but the giant red-headed jerk from New York via Australia was another thing entirely. Something about the guy set his back up, like waving a red flag in a bull's face.

At any rate, they were soon settled in a surprisingly quaint sitting room with the mysterious Hannibal Chau -- who, even with goggles and those gold-grilled teeth, looked and sounded more New York than the cranky paleontologist ever would -- pouring out cups of honeyed green tea and offering them brownies.

Just in case, Raleigh passed on the brownies. He wouldn't put it past this guy to be growing pot in his back forty.

"Sorry, sheriff, but it's just me these days. Santiago sadly passed away, what, two years ago? I tell ya, I cried for a week."

Sheriff Mori also passed on the brownies, though Mr. Hansen was already on his second one. Frankly, the jerk would probably be easier to deal with if he was blissed out, so Raleigh didn't say a word.

The sheriff sipped at her tea. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Chau, but my office has no record of your business partner's death."

"Not just my business partner, sheriff. That man was my best friend of twenty years."

Despite the potential pot in the brownies, Mr. Hansen frowned. "How'd he die, then?" When everyone shot him varying but generally negative looks, he shrugged. "I mean... if you know?"

Raleigh rolled his eyes and bailed the jerk out. "Mr. Chau, a man was killed by some sort of animal in the lake this morning. We normally wouldn't risk invading your privacy like this, but... can you tell us how your friend died?"

"No problem at all, officer." Mr. Chau smiled, showing off the gold on his teeth. "You see, I killed him."

The sheriff's teacup clanked down on its saucer. Mr. Hansen choked on his third brownie. Raleigh... honestly, was too surprised to do anything but blink.

Thankfully, Sheriff Mori was very good at her job. With her hand on her gun, she eyed the potential threat even as she squared up. "How exactly did you do that, Mr. Chau?"

It seemed the guy rolled his eyes, though the goggles were too dark to see through. "Calm down, sheriff. He fell out of a tree, okay? Hit just about every branch on the way down and broke... pretty much everything. He didn't want to go to a hospital." Sighing, he sat down and put aside his tea. "So, he asked me to put him out of his misery. What was I supposed to do?"

Okay. So... maybe that wasn't so bad. Raleigh, too, put aside his tea. "Why didn't you report it? Nobody would have blamed you for playing Kevorkian, but surely his family--"

"Didn't have any. Neither do I, for that matter. So who needed to know?"

A little silence fell, massively uncomfortable. To Raleigh's surprise, it was Mr. Hansen who broke it, and without being an asshole, for once.

"Look, Mr. Chau, we're sorry for taking up so much of your time. We'll just... see ourselves to the door, yeah?"

They made their excuses and left, again quiet on the boat as they skimmed over the deceptively serene expanse of the lake. What could possibly lie below that flat, untroubled surface that could tear a grown man in half? Why had no one seen or heard anything unusual until now? Yes, no one lived directly on the lake except for the headcase they'd just invaded, but people did visit it.

"What's with the water?" Mr. Hansen, again breaking what was probably an awkward silence. And, surprisingly, not being an asshole yet again. "It's so... flat. Not a wave, not a ripple."

Sheriff Mori answered, her tone musing. "When I moved here, I found out the original plan was to name it Lake Placid. Unfortunately, that name was already taken."

Sounding musing himself, the maybe-not-a-jerk eyed her consideringly. "That's a shame, yeah?"

He hated to interrupt a softened moment between the two of them -- and he privately agreed with them that settling for "Black Lake" was missing an opportunity -- but this wasn't a friend-making expedition any more than it was a science field trip. "We're almost to the campsite. They should have most of the tents set up already."

Mr. Hansen jumped to his feet, immediately grabbing for the side of the boat to keep his balance. "Tents? You never said anything about tents."

He raised an eyebrow and shot the guy a curious look. "What did you think I meant when I said we'd be camping for at least two days?"

Flustered, the jerk looked from Raleigh to the sheriff and back. "I thought... we're not going back to the B&B? I don't... are there toilets?"

God save him from city folk. Yancy would be snickering behind his hand.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Maybe we _should_ just take you back."

"Why? Because I prefer a toilet?"

The sheriff chimed in, again sounding both smug and amused. "Oh, no. I forgot to bring sanitary wipes."

"Oi! What, you're on his side now? I thought we had a moment there."

She shrugged. "I didn't say anything."

"Sir--"

"Stop calling me sir. My name is Chuck." Grunting, the jerk crossed his arms. "Or maybe you're right. Maybe I _should_ wipe my ass with whatever the fuck's in reach. Never had poison ivy before, but I'll sure as hell blend in better if I spend the week scratchin' my ass like the rest of you lot."

If he wasn't driving a boat, Raleigh would close his eyes and shake his head. "Y'know, you really don't have to announce that you're from New York."

"I'm _from_ Australia, asshole."

He again shot the jerk a look. "And the difference in attitude is... what?"

The jerk -- he probably should call him by his name, as requested, but... ugh -- opened his mouth, considered, then smirked. Holy shit. Raleigh was not prepared for the deep dimple carving into the jerk's cheek like that. It softened his whole face. Would... Jesus, what would the guy look like if he actually smiled?

"Honestly, mate, I do get on pretty well there. Huh."

Startled by exactly how much he suddenly wanted to see a genuine smile on that freckled face, Raleigh didn't notice the sheriff stepping closer until she gestured off ahead.

"What is that?"

Jerking out of his stupor, he looked where she was pointing.

"Oi, looks like a branch, yeah?"

But it didn't. Branches weren't that smooth, even ones that had been underwater. And the lake was actually up almost a foot, rather than down, so it likely was as underwater now as it had ever been.

Concentrating now -- and oddly glad for something to get his attention off that surprising dimple on what had previously been a face practically sculpted for arrogance and sarcasm -- he steered the boat over close enough for Sheriff Mori to reach over the side and grab a handful of what definitely wasn't a tree branch. She grunted, so Mr. Hansen went over to help. Between the two of them, the thing practically erupted out of the water.

Unfortunately, as soon as they saw what it was, they both let go and it landed directly on Mr. Hansen's likely expensive dress shoes. He didn't exactly scream, but that was definitely not a manly shout of outrage.

"Jesus, Mori! What the fuck!"

Her hands shaking, the sheriff actually looked unnerved for the first time. "What did I do?"

"You threw a goddamn head at me! What the fuck!"

Because, yes, that was a head. A moose head, to be specific. Torn clean off and... dumped in a lake?

"I didn't _throw_ it! I just let it go!"

"On my goddamn _foot!"_

Jesus. Moose were fucking huge and easily angered and generally not to be fucked with. What the hell could just... bite off one's head? Even a bear wouldn't tangle with a moose without a damn good reason.

"I'm sorry! It was heavy!"

Raleigh had only ever seen one moose in the flesh, back in Alaska as a kid. It had looked as big as a woolly mammoth to 10-year-old Raleigh Becket, and when his father had snatched him around the midriff and run the opposite direction, heedless of where the family campsite was, all Raleigh knew for sure was that monsters really did still roam the earth. And that all those old Rocky and Bullwinkle reruns were a lie.

"Ugh, fuck, it's _leaking_ on me!"

What the hell were they dealing with?

"Guys?"

As if it was a magic word, the bickering pair stopped and looked at him. Both sets of eyes -- one light, one dark -- were wide, but Raleigh guessed only the sheriff had any real idea about why they should actually be afraid right now.

"Sheriff, exactly how many deputies do you have?" He swallowed hard as he looked down at the giant severed head with its crown of antlers taking up most of the floor of his boat. "Because I think... we're gonna need all of them."

And even that might not be enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Chuck would never admit it, but his hands were still shaking when they finally docked at what appeared to be, God help him, the base camp. He just... the sheriff had said moose were huge, but that head....

Worse, his shoes and socks and trousers below the knees were soaked through with moose-infused lake juice, and he really just wanted to get somewhere private and change. Even if that meant a tent.

Jesus, that actually meant a tent. There was a whole goddamn village of them in a sort of clearing set well back from the lake's edge. That Becket bastard hadn't been taking the piss.

He could do this. Yes, his only other attempt at field work had left him hospitalized for two weeks, but he was a grown-ass adult now. He could deal with two days in the goddamn sticks.

So, he didn't let the sheriff's droll look deter him as he wheeled his suitcase over the rough terrain toward where a deputy had absently pointed after handing his gear out of the boat. Another deputy waved him over with a grin, but he had to stop and gape for a moment before heading that direction. It wasn't every day he saw a bloke with Elvis hair running about.

"Mr. Hansen, right?"

Blinking, he tried to regain his bearings and put out a hand. "Chuck, if you don't mind. Mr. Hansen's my father, yeah?"

The bloke grinned, free and easy. Seemed nice enough. "I like that. I'm Tendo, and this is your tent. Should have everything you need in there. If you want wifi, you'll need to be closer to the generator, though. Our router isn't the best."

"No, this is... fine. Are we sharing, or...?"

"No, sir. This one's all yours."

He fidgeted. "Great." The bloke started away, but Chuck reached out a staying hand. "Oi, this is... don't get me wrong, but... what's it like in the woods in Maine? You lot don't go all _Deliverance_ on outsiders, right?"

The poor sod's eyes went wide, then twitched off to one side. Chuck looked that way and... oh. Shit. The pretty Fish and Game bloke was right there and had clearly heard every word.

Well, no choice now but to own it, even as the deputy buggered off for safer parts.

"Knew you were there, didn't I?"

"Lemme guess: you've never been to Maine before."

"Don't gimme that, mate. That was a legitimate question." But he ducked his head and scuffed a squishy foot at the turf. "Never spent much time in the sticks, yeah?"

"I could tell." Smug wanker. "Which makes me wonder why the museum sent you."

Narrowing his eyes, he glared. What did this backwoods hick think he knew?

"No offense, Mr. Han--"

His shoulders went up.

"Chuck." The wanker put up his hands and tried a disarming smile. Dammit, but it was actually a bit disarming. "Sorry. Just... you don't like bugs--"

"Oi, no one likes bugs!"

"--and you don't like tents--"

"No, it's the lack of working toilets I obj--"

"--and you generally seem to dislike the entire outdoors. So tell me, what are you doing here?"

His jaw clenched, and he made himself let go of his suitcase handle before he broke it. "The museum sent me to look at the tooth."

"Why you?"

"Oi, because I'm the goddamn expert, yeah? We want this dinosaur wank debunked before it gets out to the public, don't we?"

The rotten sod stepped closer, eyes narrow and intent. "Yeah, but you've already looked at the tooth and said it wasn't a fossil. So I ask again: what are you doing here on the lake?"

He opened his mouth with no idea what would come out. Thankfully, before he said something stupid -- or, worse, actually explained why he didn't want to go back to New York just yet -- a buzz he'd only barely registered in the back of his mind caught his attention as it grew suddenly louder. Was that... a helicopter?

Distracted, he turned away from Becket, who was proving way too insightful for his peace of mind -- smarter than he looked, that one -- and toward the lake. There. A chopper incoming.

Jesus, was that...?

"Sheriff Mori, are you expecting company?"

Becket sounded a little miffed, unless Chuck missed his guess, but Chuck's attention was already on getting closer to the water and squinting to see if he could make out any details.

"If this is who I think it is...."

He hadn't expected Becket or Mori to walk with him, but they flanked him as he headed toward the opening in the trees that fronted on the lake.

"Who do you think it is?"

Surely not. He raised a hand to shield his eyes as the chopper kicked up a wind around them and... oh. Oh, shit.

"It is. Goddammit."

Becket leaned close and shouted over the noise. "Who is it?"

Giving in to the inevitable, Chuck let his hand drop and shook his head. "Newt Geiszler. He's this rich wacko mythology professor. I'd know his chopper anywhere."

Because the wanker had it specially detailed a few years back. And bragged about it incessantly.

Closer still, and Becket was practically shouting in his ear. In other circumstances, Chuck might not mind. Unfortunately, this was not other circumstances.

"You know him?"

Raising his voice so Mori could hear, too -- she was considerately _not_ leaning into his personal space, thanks -- he shouted back. "Sort of, yeah. He does some work with the museum. Donates a lot, yeah? And in his spare time, he travels all over the world to...."

No. It wasn't possible. This... this was _Maine,_ for Christ's sake.

"To what?"

He huffed a small laugh that he absolutely didn't feel. "To swim with crocs." Shaking his head, he gestured toward the unique detailing on the belly of the landing chopper. Crocodile skin, of course. "Since he's here, he must think you have one."

Mori snorted. "You can't be serious."

"He sure as hell wouldn't be here for a chupacabra, sheriff." Despite his misgivings, he shot Becket a smirk. "If you think I'm a pain in the ass, you're gonna _really_ hate this bloke. Fair warning."

Sighing, Becket shook his head, staring over at where the chopper's blades were slowing down as it floated on its pontoons toward the shoreline. "Great. This trip just keeps getting better."

It didn't take long for the little wiggler to leap down out of his chopper and come running up to the crowd staring at him. As usual, Newt Geiszler paid no attention to anything besides the shiny thing in front of him.

"Dammit, Chuck, you beat me!"

Not wanting to be associated with this hyperactive wanker, Chuck cleared his throat and shrugged. "Geiszler. What brings you to Maine?"

The sheriff tried to get a word in and assert some sort of control with a "Who are you, sir?", but Chuck could only shake his head. There was no controlling a directionless whirlwind like Newt Geiszler.

As expected, the professor talked right over her. "Have you seen it? Is it as big as it sounds?"

Chuck put a hand up. "Look, it's not--"

"I asked you a question." Jesus, how did such a powerful tone come out of such a tiny body? "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"I need topographical maps of the area. Has anyone seen it? Newt Geiszler. I find it hard to believe that no one's seen it."

Mori shot Chuck an irritated look, but he could only shake his head. This was absolutely not his fault.

"Sir, I need you to identify yourself and your purpose here. Right now."

The little wiggler finally paused and shot the sheriff a negligent nod. "I told you. Newt Geiszler. Looks like the algae blooms are in, but the water is almost stagnant. We need to--"

"Sir. Stop. Talking."

Chuck crossed one arm over his ribs and covered his mouth with the other hand. Becket watched the proceedings with growing irritation. And Mori....

Yeah. Sheriff Mori was done.

"You cannot just fly in here and start giving orders. And I need more identification than your name, considering you flew into a policed area without so much as radioing for permission."

Blinking, Geiszler looked from Mori to Chuck. "Why does the woman heckle me? Why do all women heckle me?" The bloke's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Hello, handsome. Chuck, who's your friend? You know I like the quiet ones."

Becket stiffened, and Chuck felt an odd flare of... possessiveness? Jesus.

"Raleigh Becket, Maine Department of Fish and Game. And you are...?"

"You're hot, but you're deaf. The name's Newt Geiszler, and I'm here to find the crocodile."

Mori blinked slowly. "In Maine."

"Not so far-fetched. Ask Chuckers, there. The big ones have been migrating north."

He grunted and lowered his hand. "Do not call me Chuckers."

"Anyway, we gotta get a move-on. I want to do a quick scout on the lake before we completely lose the light."

Mori threw her hands up in disgust. Becket seemed caught between indignant and flat-out annoyed. And Chuck....

Chuck just wanted to change his goddamn shoes and socks and maybe put on a different pair of trousers.

This trip had just officially shat the bed.


	9. Chapter 9

This was not what Mako had trained for. Throwing drunks in the tank overnight? That, she could do. Pulling over kids who thought hilltopping and drag racing were a good idea on a Friday night? Sign her up.

Putting up with an ever-increasing number of increasingly less pleasant people in her quiet little county, the loudest and most obnoxious of which thought there was a crocodile in her lake?

No. That was not in the handbook. And, frankly, she didn't like it.

Although the cranky, woods-hating paleontologist was sort of growing on her. She could at least feel sorry for him being so blatantly out of his element, which was why she'd grudgingly agreed to piling into a canoe with him, though he had no canoeing experience. He tried, bless him.

And Officer Becket was becoming strangely reliable, despite being a man of few, if salty, words. Unfortunately, that got him paired with the new guy, who apparently never shut up.

"This lake is, what, a mile from the ocean? A croc could easily have made it that far."

The paleontologist -- Chuck, as he kept insisting -- grunted, trying to keep them going straight and looking extremely uncomfortable all crammed in at the front of the canoe. "Provided it made it all the way up the seaboard."

"Dude, we talked about this last time. The big ones are on the move. I keep telling you. Did he tell you we had sex? Dude is a sexual tyrannosaurus rex."

Chuck jolted, nearly dropping his oar. "Oi, not enough money in the fucking world, Geiszler. The fuck is wrong with you?"

Unperturbed, the offensive little professor shrugged and adjusted his headset, leaving one ear off. "Worth a shot. I should've heard something by now. This is where it happened, right?"

Mako rolled her eyes. "Close. How would it survive winter? Reptiles are cold-blooded."

Pecking at his computer -- and doing absolutely no paddling, leaving that apparently undesirable job to Officer Becket, who was, thankfully, more than up to the task -- the professor flapped a negligent hand. "Admittedly, alligators are better at holding their body temperature than crocodiles, but even crocs can survive in water temps as low as forty-five degrees. They may not be happy there, but they can survive."

Chuck piped in again. "But why _would_ it? Especially if you're talking one big enough to bite the head off a moose. 'Cause, lemme tell ya, mate; that head was fucking huge."

"The bigger body mass would actually work in its favor." Out of nowhere, the professor glanced at Mako. "Sheriff, I feel like you are the only person I know who can actually answer this question for me. If I spin you around several times, do you become disoriented?"

Her grip tightened on the oar, but, surprisingly, Chuck beat her to a response.

"Jesus, Geiszler! Racist much?"

Worse, the annoying little man actually seemed surprised. "How is that racist?"

Again, the prickly -- for good reason, this time --paleontologist beat her to it. "Uh, how about in every particular? Jesus, Newt."

"Huh." Blinking, the professor shrugged. "Sorry, I guess. I just always wondered."

Oh, yes. She knew his type. The kind who only apologizes for his entitlement when he's called out on it by someone bigger.

Frankly, she was glad Chuck had intervened. Not because she needed the defense, but because if she'd clocked the jerk on the back of the head with her oar, as she'd been tempted to, she might have accidentally tipped poor Officer Becket into the drink, too.

Although Officer Becket looked so jaw-clenched that he might not mind, so long as the professor went in first.

"Wait, wait. Stop." The jerk touched the one headphone over his ear, listening intently to the sonar he'd rigged on his laptop. "Never mind. Thought I heard it. Their signal is very distinct, you know."

Supercilious asshole.

"I swear to God, Geiszler." Shaking his head, Chuck went back to paddling. He actually seemed to be getting the hang of it. "Wait, what's that?"

He gestured ahead, and Mako craned around his bulk to see. It almost looked like a rain of pebbles splashing into the lake's surface, but she knew better.

Officer Becket did, too. "White perch."

"The fuck are they doing? Feeding?"

She swallowed hard and looked around the otherwise quiet surface of the lake. "They are afraid."

The professor startled and pressed the headphone again. "Oh, shit--"

The canoe shuddered, then seemed to jerk to a halt. And just like that, the world flipped over at her end and she fell backward into the water. For a brief, almost hilarious moment, she saw poor Chuck -- who had finally been allowed to change into slacks and another pair of shoes and socks, who'd left his suit coat behind and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt -- flailing and terrified as he flew through the air overhead.

Then, she was under, and all her focus was on swimming to the surface before whatever it was caught her. The image of the diver's intestines in the bottom of her boat refused to go away, and she broke the surface already reaching for the capsized canoe. She did not want to end up like that.

She didn't want Chuck to, either, though, so as soon as she had a grip, she looked around for him.

"Get your legs out of the water!" Officer Becket had deftly maneuvered his canoe closer and was reaching for her. "Jesus, Mako, get your legs out!"

"Where's Chuck?"

"He's over there!" The professor pointed a bit behind both canoes. "Chuck! Buddy, c'mon, you gotta get up out of the water!"

She was secure enough, lying mostly over the bottom of the canoe, so she slapped away the officer's -- Raleigh's -- helping hands. "Get him! Get him out of the water! Chuck, swim this way!"

"Don't move your legs!"

She wanted to slap that laptop right out of the asshole's hands. "How can he swim without moving?"

"Chuck, c'mon, you're almost here." Raleigh's quiet, seemingly calm voice washed over them all like a balm. "That's it. Just reach out your hand. I got you."

It took both Raleigh and Mako, but they got Chuck mostly out of the water and onto the rounded bottom of the upside-down canoe, his chest heaving and his eyes wide and terrified.

She didn't blame him, though. Not a one of them actually felt safe.


	10. Chapter 10

Raleigh had roughly a thousand pages of paperwork to do, but he didn't so much as look at the clipboard in his hand.

"Oh, I'm all aware that it sounds ridiculous, sir, but--"

Chuck's face, which had been sickly pale since Raleigh and Mako hauled him out of the water, suffused with red as the bureaucrat on the other end of the phone line cut him off.

"I understand that, _sir,_ but something out there flipped my goddamn canoe, and I very much doubt it was a beaver, yeah? You need to--"

That epic jawline clenched.

"Oi, I am a respected paleontologist with a natural history museum. I'm not some drunken hick selling you--" Cut off again. This time, though, the tight shoulders rolled and the poor guy stood up straight, heedless of the blanket thrown over him. "Yeah, thanks for that. I'll remember this next voting cycle, you useless bag of dicks."

Pushing the cut-off button hard enough to break it, Chuck looked almost mad enough to just throw the phone. Luckily, he got himself under control and managed to hand it back to Raleigh, instead.

"You were right, mate. They won't send anyone without visual confirmation."

He tried for a reassuring grin, but he wasn't sure he made it. "It's okay. We don't need them."

He started to say something else, but one of the deputies -- Tendo, he thought, though he hadn't had much chance to learn all the names -- called for the sheriff.

"I think you guys should see this."

They all trooped along -- even Chuck, though the poor guy was soaking wet and had ruined yet another set of dress clothes -- until they stood around in a loose circle. The deputy pointed at the leafy forest floor.

Jesus, was that--

Chuck made a rough hurking sound in the back of his throat and turned away. Honestly, Raleigh didn't blame him. It wasn't every day he saw a human toe crawling with worms lying on a bed of loamy earth.

The professor, Geiszler, knelt down and peered at it, apparently unfazed. "There's some decomposition around the base. Looks a little acidic. I'd say it's been swallowed." Without so much as a grimace, he reached out and picked it up, shaking off the worst of the worms and maggots. Then, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he held it out toward the sheriff. "Is this the guy that got killed?"

Mako fixed him with that death-promising, dark glare of hers. "Sorry. He was taller the last time I saw him."

Raleigh's mouth twitched. He was really starting to like this county's sheriff.

Again unperturbed by the ire directed his way, Geiszler eyed the toe again. "Definitely a croc. They're a keystone species."

Mako narrowly refrained from rolling her eyes. "And that means...?"

The professor opened his mouth, but Raleigh intervened before the little prick could say anything else offensive. "A keystone species affects the entire ecosystem around it. The worms, those frightened perch, the moose head... all affected by... whatever we're dealing with."

"A croc."

He sighed. Unfortunately, Geiszler wasn't done. The jerk actually tried to hand the toe off to the sheriff.

"Here's your friend."

She blinked slowly, vastly unimpressed. "He was _not_ my friend."

And just like that, she walked away. Chuck, giving the prick one last glare, followed. Raleigh shook his head at Geiszler's confused look and gladly followed the rest of the herd, leaving the deputy behind to deal with the find.

He had paperwork to do.


	11. Chapter 11

At dusk, Mako took a perimeter walk, more to settle her mind than to check the fortifications. She had no idea what was in her lake, and if she was honest, it could very well be a crocodile -- Chuck had definitively identified the tooth as reptilian, anyway -- but the idea of it still seemed ridiculous. She was an intelligent woman and she'd done very, very well in all her schooling and training, but crocodiles were simply outside her bailiwick, which was sort of the point. There weren't crocodiles in Maine, or she'd know more about them.

A sudden blare of music echoed through the timber, and she cut her perimeter check short, arrowing straight for camp. Unfortunately, before she got there, she found three of her deputies -- the Wei triplets, of course, because why not? -- digging a giant hole. In the middle of camp. For no reason she could fathom.

She stood over them -- they were in the pit up to their shoulders, the busy little bastards -- until they noticed her and froze guiltily. She didn't even have to say a word.

"It's a trap."

That was Hu. Her expression didn't change.

"He paid us."

Geiszler. Of course. Her jaw clenched. "You accepted money from him?"

This time, it was Jin. "We took a check. That's okay, right?"

Taking a deep breath, she tried to settle herself. "Out of the hole. Back to your tents. Tear up the check."

She ignored the immediate whinging and turned on her heel. The loud and obnoxious music -- where the hell were they, a Las Vegas casino? she was pretty sure that was Tom Jones blaring through the trees -- was obviously coming from Geiszler's opulent, small-house-sized tent, where every light was on and the rest of her deputies seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Striding in, she took in the room in three quick glances. Neither Chuck nor Raleigh were anywhere to be seen, but the rest of her deputies -- including the Kaidanovskys, who she thought would be above such ridiculousness -- were present and accounted for, beer bottles in hand and moving to the music. Even Tendo, who was actually dancing with the plague of humanity that had been dropped upon them via helicopter.

She started to make her presence known, then caught a snatch of Geiszler's conversation.

"Law enforcement is pretty dangerous, isn't it?"

Tendo just sort of smiled. He, too, was more used to tossing folk in the drunk tank than doing anything truly dangerous.

"And your ass is, frankly, spectacular. Do you play hockey? Do squats?"

Her mouth dropped open, but Tendo only shrugged. "You know I'm straight, right? Married? Expecting a kid in a few months?"

Unfazed, the complete jerk just waggled his eyebrows and leaned closer. "Ever heard of the Kinsey scale?"

That. Was. It.

"Hey!"

She meant it to sound authoritative. Thus, the cheery return shout of "Hey!" from the entire crew, most of whom tipped their beers her way, only set her hackles up further.

Beyond angry, she strode over to the CD player and turned it off. "Did you all forget that this is official police business under the purview of the Department of Fish and Game? This is _not_ a party."

Still completely divorced from reality, Geiszler only danced harder, even without the music. "It is now that you're here!"

There were a few chuckles, but a single glare from Mako quelled them. "Back to your tents."

Aleksis frowned, the expression huge on his giant face. "Can we take our beer?"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Yes. Only what's already open, though."

The grumbles turned to quiet cheers, and the crowd thinned out. She wasn't a hardass, and they all knew it. She just expected professionalism.

They knew that, too.

She did, however, raise an eyebrow at Tendo as he eased past. Shrugging, he grinned and ducked out of the tent.

Finally, it was just her and Geiszler, who looked absurdly put out.

"What's with the Tom Jones?"

"Well, sheriff, crocodiles are brazen. They like coming on land, and they're attracted to loud noises."

"So you were using my deputies as bait?"

That finally seemed to catch the asshole's attention. "Uhhhh... I didn't think of it quite that way...."

She leaned close. For once, a man she had to deal with wasn't taller than her, and she took advantage of it. "You listen very closely, professor. If it were up to me, you would be gone. If you endanger my deputies again, you will be. Do we understand each other?"

He blinked. "You speak very good English. Do you know that?"

Her jaw clenched. "I can't kick you off this procedure, but I _can_ arrest you for reckless endangerment. Do not force my hand, sir."

He swallowed hard, leaning back a bit. "Is it okay if I'm a little turned on right now?"

Huffing incredulously, she turned on her heel and left the tent. She desperately needed to get to sleep as soon as possible. The last thing she needed was to actually be cranky on top of furious.

Tomorrow was shaping up to be a long, long day


	12. Chapter 12

Chuck was restless. He didn't know what had flipped the canoe earlier. Geiszler was a wanker, but he might not be that far off. A large crocodile would explain the tooth, the underwater attack on the diver, and even the moose head. All the croc had to do was wait for the moose to lower its head to drink and chomp. Right through the neck.

But... that moose head was _huge._ He could barely get his mind around how big the rest of the body had to have been. And no crocodile he'd ever seen in a documentary or in footage sent to the museum -- most of which came from Geiszler -- was big enough to do something like that.

So... what? If not a crocodile, what?

Since he'd already ruined two pairs of dress shoes, he pulled on his pajama pants and the lone jumper he'd brought, then dug around for his runners. He'd brought them more as house shoes than anything else, but they should come in handy now. Why the hell hadn't he brought casual, outdoor clothing instead of his usual museum wear?

Oh. Right. He hadn't expected to be fucking bivouacked out in the goddamn boonies almost thirty miles from anything resembling civilization.

But he needed to walk off some of this restlessness, or he'd never get to sleep tonight. Yes, crocs were perfectly capable of coming on land for their prey, but if there _was_ one, it had just eaten half a man earlier in the day. A quick stroll should be safe as houses.

That happy thought lasted until he neared the big campfire and saw Officer Becket sitting on one of the sawed-off stumps that had been brought over, filling out paperwork on his clipboard. The bloke clearly wasn't as bad as that first impression had made him out to be. Chuck couldn't forget that Becket's quiet, confident voice had helped him get back to the canoe, or that the bloke's strong hands had helped haul him up out of the water to relative safety, just as Mako's had.

So, no, Becket wasn't a bad sort. But that was also sort of the problem.

Sighing, he decided against turning away and walked right past the pretty sod, headed for the other end of the clearing that looked over the lake. He knew when Becket looked up, but the bloke seemed equally unwilling to engage in conversation.

Dammit.

Before he could think about it, his mouth started flapping. "So goddamn flat. You could skip a rock halfway across, easy."

"I'm sorry?"

He felt the tips of his ears heat and blamed it on the merrily crackling fire between them. "Uh, skipping stones." Now that he'd started, he couldn't seem to stop. "Used to spend summers at my uncle's place on the lake after my parents divorced. Me and my old man would head there for a week or two, and I'd skip stones all day." Forcing a shrug, he wished he'd just stayed in his tent. "Beat listening to them wax poetic about their war days and drinking themselves to sleep."

"I bet it did." God, did the bloke practice that voice? Deep and smooth like fresh honey, soothing and fascinating all at once. "Though, considering my old man left before our mom was even cold in her grave, I can't say I'd know from experience."

Oh. Well. That fucking sucked. "Oi, sorry to hear that, mate."

And he was, but it was a lame-ass thing to say. Worse, the pretty bastard stood up off his stump and strolled closer, and he suddenly had no idea what else to talk about.

"Chuck... I want you to stay here at base camp tomorrow."

The indecision disappeared like a fart in the wind, and Chuck turned to argue. Unfortunately, the bloke already had his hands up, the clipboard firmly clutched in one.

"I'm not trying to start a fight. Just... something flipped that canoe. I don't have a better theory than a killer crocodile, and even if I did, it'd still be something dangerous, okay?"

His chin came up. "Oi, so it's okay for you and Mako and even Geiszler to face some danger, but not for the expert from the museum? I got news for you, mate. I didn't fly all the way to goddamn Maine just to toast marshmallows 'round the campfire."

Another step closer, and the blue of those eyes were entirely too compelling to look away from. "Then why _are_ you here?"

His mouth snapped shut and he crossed his arms.

"Chuck, the sheriff and I... it's our _job_ to put ourselves in the line of fire, but it's certainly not yours. Museums don't send paleontologists to investigate animal attacks."

"They did send me to examine the tooth."

"And you did that. So why are you out here in the woods?"

God, he didn't want to say it. But those eyes... and the patient, coaxing tone....

Sighing, he gave in. Turning to the fire, he squared his shoulders. "I walked in on my boss, the museum director, fucking my old man on the desk in his office. Considering I only moved to New York because I got the job at the museum, you can imagine everything being really fucking awkward." He swallowed hard and kicked the toe of his running shoe at a rock. "So for the sake of comfort -- namely theirs because, I dunno if you noticed, but I've got a bit of a temper -- I was shipped off to Maine to cool off before the Big Conversation."

Silence.

"And I don't wanna go back until I can prove I'm actually goddamn good at my job, because now I'm not sure if I got it because I was head of my class or because Dad was fucking the museum's director all along. Okay?"

"Oh." The bloke sighed. "Okay, but you can do that from in town. I'll keep you in the loop as soon as we find anything--"

"Mate, I'm here. I'm staying." Gearing himself up, he turned and faced the pretty sod head-on. "I want to be part of this, yeah? Even if it's dangerous." He grinned a little. "Unless there's snakes, at which point you lot can fuck right off."

He still had the scar, dammit. Sadly, he'd rather tangle with a croc than anything venomous.

Some of the seriousness on that face -- not much older than his own, but somehow more mature -- faded, and the bloke grinned as slightly as Chuck had. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Another sigh. "Okay. Seven A.M. Don't make me regret it." The grin notched up a little higher on one side as the pretty sod backed away. "I hear Tendo makes some pretty amazing coffee. I also hear he'll fight you for the first cup."

Chuck nodded, relieved. Becket tipped the clipboard to his forehead, then turned and walked away. Chuck wasn't ashamed to watch, abruptly wondering if his own ass would look that amazing in jeans and wishing he had some to try. Then, he forced himself to turn and face the lake, so smooth and untroubled, the reflected moon an impossibly detailed copy of the one overhead.

He had no idea what tomorrow held, but... he'd be part of it. Whether good or bad, he'd be there.

For the moment, it was enough.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been a while since Mako last camped, so it took her a moment to realize that what had awakened her was her own bladder. Dammit. She was a fine one to tease Chuck about his obsession with toilets when she far preferred to hold it rather than pee in the woods.

But her bladder had other ideas, so she reluctantly grabbed the toilet paper and belted on her sidearm -- she still didn't think it was a crocodile out there, but even a raccoon could be dangerous if it felt threatened -- and crawled out of her tent. The camp was middle-of-the-night quiet, a few snores rumbling here and there, so she kept her steps light as she made her way to the edge of the clearing.

There was a trick to peeing in the woods as a woman, so she looked for a handy tree to lean against that was secluded enough that if someone else came looking for a place to take a leak, she wouldn't be caught with her pants literally down. Just as she spied a likely specimen -- one smooth birch in a somewhat crowded copse of pine trees -- she heard a noise.

A... crackle. A rustle in the brush.

The urge to pee forgotten, she touched the gun at her hip and turned to where she thought the sound had come from. Silence. No critters in the underbrush, no insects churring, no nightbirds calling.

Something was here. Something was close by.

She popped the catch and pulled her Glock, stuffing the toilet paper roll down the back of her pajama pants so she could hold the gun in the usual, steady teacup grip. She kept it pointed at the ground as she crept forward, but her nerves sang with readiness to shoot, if necessary.

A branch cracked just ahead. The pine trees rustled as if whispering to each other.

She firmed her grip and flipped off the safety, then reached out to pull aside a large pine bough. Suddenly, the bough jerked out of her hand, and a face popped up out of the dark like a jack-in-the-box with glasses. In her surprise, she damn near pulled the trigger before realizing it was a human face.

In fact, it was that son of a bitch, Geiszler.

"Jesus Christ, woman! You scared the crap out of me!"

She barked a harsh laugh and flipped the safety back on. "Dammit, I could have killed you! Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought you were the crocodile!"

Shouts erupted from back at camp, and she heard running feet. Groaning, she put her hands to her head, almost braining herself with the butt of her Glock.

"What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"I'm laying a spring trap. They _can_ come on land, you know. What are _you_ doing here in the middle of the night?"

"I. Could. Have. Killed. You."

He threw up his hands. "This could end up saving your life!"

Raleigh ran up in a t-shirt and pajama pants, a rifle in hand. "What the hell is going on out here?"

Chuck was right behind him, followed by a small group of Mako's deputies. In other circumstances, she'd find the paleontologist's white cotton, weirdly formal pajamas with the button-down shirt and blue piping hilarious. Right now, she was too busy deciding if wetting her pants would be the better part of valor after being scared to death by an idiot in the middle of the night.

Sighing, she put her gun back in its holster. "Nothing. I heard a noise and came to investigate."

Geiszler started to bluster, but Raleigh cut right through it.

"I know the sheriff already said this, but I'm gonna underline it for you right now, Geiszler. We appreciate your fancy equipment and your willingness to help, but if you endanger anyone here -- including yourself -- with any of your bullshit, you are gone. Do you understand me? You will be arrested and removed."

Huffing, the asshole threw down the pine bough he'd just cut off. "I'm _not_ trying to _hurt_ anyone!"

With that, he turned and stomped off into the woods, away from the camp. Unless she missed her guess, the jerk actually looked a bit hurt by the accusation, but at the moment, she didn't care. He'd been nothing but offensive and abrasive since he arrived.

Sighing, Raleigh turned a weary eye on Chuck. "Exactly how much of a wacko is this guy, again?"

Looking woefully out of place in his expensive pajamas, the poor guy dug the heel of one hand into his eye and slumped. "I dunno, mate. He... takes this croc business very, very seriously."

"How do you mean?"

Blatantly uncomfortable, Chuck shrugged. "He thinks they're... godly."

Mako blinked. Raleigh huffed.

"Far be it from me to excuse that wanker, but pretty much every ancient culture deified crocs. In fact, going back in recorded history, crocs have been more worshipped than Jesus Christ."

She shook her head. She was way too tired for this. "So... this is supposed to make us understand him better?"

"God, no." Grunting, Chuck scruffed a hand through his hair and yawned. "He's always been a wanker. Just... he's not the only one who thinks they're divine conduits, or whatever." He shrugged again. "And he really does have a knack for finding them, so if that's what we've got here, we could do worse than let him help, yeah?"

She grunted, wishing she'd just stayed in her tent. Wishing she was home, where she could tend her little rock garden and soothe her mind. "I think he's certifiable."

Raleigh rolled his shoulders and sighed. "You're probably right, but it's too late and I'm too tired to think about it tonight. Let's all just... get back to sleep, okay?"

Muttering quietly, the crowd started back to the campsite. Just as they reached the edge of the clearing, a deputy -- one of the Weis, she thought -- went crashing through seemingly level ground with a shout of terror.

Grunting, Chuck stopped short enough that Raleigh and Mako both almost ran into him and gestured. "Oi, right. And he's a good trapper, too. Forgot that bit."

Sighing, Mako dodged around him and headed for the pit to rescue her deputy, silently vowing to never go camping again.


	14. Chapter 14

Chuck again found himself on the water, this time in a life jacket that Raleigh had kindly strapped him into before allowing him on the boat. He was eternally grateful for Tendo's coffee because seven in the morning was a good hour earlier than he was used to being up and dressed, and he was cranky enough about it to want to bite someone's head off for it.

Preferably Geiszler's.

On the plus side, Raleigh had let him borrow a pair of cargo pants and a plain t-shirt to wear so he wouldn't have to potentially ruin another pair of slacks or a dress shirt. He'd pulled on one of his least dressy long-sleeved dress shirts because he had no intention of bursting into flames after a half hour in the sun, but he left it unbuttoned down the front and at the cuffs and appreciated the gesture. And the smell of the t-shirt.

They'd had to bring along a deputy to drive the boat, since both Raleigh and Geiszler were in wetsuits to go for a dive and Mako needed to monitor the equipment. And Chuck had no idea how to drive a boat, but everyone was nice enough to tell him he needed to help Mako with all the computer shit instead of pointing that out.

Unfortunately, he hadn't caught the deputy's name. It wasn't Tendo, which was a shame because that bloke, at least, was nice to everyone. Either way, Raleigh signalled for a halt as they pulled into the open stretch where they'd found the moose head the day before and the deputy competently slowed them down, then cut the motor entirely so they coasted to a smooth stop.

Geiszler -- the bloke looked weirder than usual with his glasses off, but he'd explained earlier that glasses and goggles didn't mix well, so he'd worn his contacts instead -- fiddled with his SCUBA gear whilst Raleigh focused on making sure the sonar was keyed up and the speaker was attached properly. The pretty bloke was definitely smarter than he looked, as he navigated the various programs with ease.

"We should get a pretty fast response if it's anywhere around." Raleigh nodded at the weighted speaker in Chuck's hand. "Those hatchling noises are like catnip for an adult croc. They'll move fast on distressed hatchlings."

Mako sighed and looked from one diver to the other. "I still don't understand why you'd want to be underwater if that happens."

Geiszler spat in his goggles, then swiped it around with a finger. Gross. "Crocs don't actually see that well underwater, so they rarely attack there."

She eyed him, unimpressed. "Tell that to the torso in the morgue."

Chuck snorted.

The professor, of course, was unbothered by the implication and simply reached over the edge of the boat to swish out his goggles. "No, really. They have nictitating lenses that protect their eyes underwater, so they really don't see well. In fact, if you're being chased by a croc, the safest thing to do is dive underwater and swim away."

She grunted. "I will not be trying that."

Raleigh, ignoring all the blather, shifted from adjusting the fancy equipment to loading the lone bullet at the tip of his harpoon. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have a job to do. Mako, can you drop the anchor?"

She did so willingly enough. "We promise not to leave without you." Her eyes narrowed as she turned her attention to Geiszler. "I make no promises about you."

"Saucy minx."

The jerk tipped her a disturbing wink, pulled his goggles into place, patted at all his equipment, then rolled backward off the edge of the boat.

"I really don't like him."

Chuck shrugged. "Not many do. He makes it very, very hard not to punch him."

Raleigh elbowed him. "Don't let that down until we've been under for maybe half a minute."

"No worries." Grinning a little -- maybe because the bloke knew why he was really here and understood enough to let him stay; maybe because the bloke's t-shirt and cargo pants were really fucking comfortable and smelled amazing -- he nudged the pretty bastard back. "Be careful down there, yeah?"

Grinning back, Raleigh pulled on his goggles without spitting in them, crossed his arms, and rolled back into the water. The boat rocked a bit but settled quickly enough as the ripples smoothed out to that flat, untroubled surface again.

"Are you flirting with him?"

Blushing, he shot the sheriff a look, but to his relief, she didn't look annoyed. Just curious. So, he shrugged.

"I think so, yeah." Unwilling to look her full-on, he twisted to lower the speaker down into the water, muting its weird squawking sounds. "Think it's working?"

"I have no idea." But she quirked a little smirk. "I'm not sure he's even noticed. I hear he's not very good with subtlety."

He chuckled, neatly reminded of that terrible first impression he'd had of the bloke. "Yeah, well. He's pretty enough to make up for it."

Her eyes sparkled for a moment before she returned herself to seriousness. "So, tell me why the professor is so obsessed with crocodiles."

Sighing, he let the moment's levity pass without an argument. "Oi, I dunno. He says he gets some sort of... religious kick from swimming with them, yeah? He's a mythology professor, so he has all these ideas about monsters and Lovecraft and the Old Ones and the like, and he thinks of them like... old gods, maybe." He shrugged, again uncomfortable with having to explain Geiszler's eccentricities. "To his credit, he's swam with damn near every croc in the world, and he's never once been nicked."

She raised an eyebrow. "So that's why he thinks they're godly? Because they don't eat him?"

He gestured vaguely. "He says it's something about looking them in the eye. The eyes of a dragon see all, or some such." Another shrug, and he made himself look at the sonar, which showed nothing as yet. "Fuck if I know. He's a wanker."

Nodding, she leaned back against the edge of the boat, and they proceded to wait. The lake was quiet around them, only a few birds chirping in the distant trees and the somnolent churring of insects. It was surprisingly pleasant, for all that there was clearly a murderbeast of some sort swimming around under that placid surface.

Sighing, he stood to stretch, then lurched backward a bit as the boat suddenly shifted below him. "Oi, the fuck was that?"

Unsteady now, he backed up into the prow, feeling safer pressed back into something of a corner. What the hell could tug the whole boat like that?

Mako was already on her feet, her hand on her gun. "I don't know. Burke, start the--"

The boat lurched again, and it felt like someone had yanked a carpet out from under him, leaving him flipping ass over tea kettle into the drink. Thankfully, the life jacket quickly bobbed him upright again, but to his horror, he saw the boat being hauled backward away from him and knew, without a doubt, that he was fucked.

He was in the water. With something powerful enough to tow a boat by its anchor line. He heard the engine coughing and sputtering, trying to start, heard Mako shouting for him to just be still, to not kick, and none of it mattered. Because he was dreadfully certain that he was about to meet one of Geiszler's gods, and he wasn't even a little bit prepared.

The boat suddenly slowed, and the cursing and engine-coughing increased. Then, between him and the boat, the water started spattering wildly.

White perch, Raleigh had said. Afraid, Mako had said.

Trying to keep his voice from shaking, he called out. "Mako? Hurry?"

The cursing increased, but finally, the motor caught and the boat practically leapt forward. The splashing died down, but Chuck could almost feel something... vast... under him. The water swirled in currents around his legs, and all the spit in his mouth dried up.

"Mako, please?"

"Chuck, hold on! We're almost there!"

The engine wound down, then gunned again as the deputy threw it into reverse to stop them, but Mako was already halfway out of the boat, her arm reaching as far as it could. She was a tiny thing, but she made up for it, and he lurched up and grabbed on the second she was in reach.

Bubbles. There were bubbles drifting up below him. Mako gave a shout and hauled upward, trying to manhandle him into the boat, but he outweighed her by damn near a hundred pounds. He scrabbled at the edge of the boat, trying to kick his legs up and in, and the deputy grabbed onto one of the pockets on his cargo pants, then got a better hold to wrestle him in as the bubbles increased.

Just as he cleared the water and tumbled into the boat -- barking his shin on the anchor they'd dropped willy-nilly on the floor in their hurry -- something surfaced, reaching up for him.

Raleigh. Jesus, it was just Raleigh in his SCUBA gear.

But that hadn't been a mere diver swimming by whilst Chuck dangled in the water like a worm on a bobber.

"Get him out! Jesus, it's right below us somewhere!"

They all lurched toward the side, rocking the boat dangerously and flinging Geiszler's expensive equipment about, but between the three of them, they hauled the poor bloke in even as he rapid-fired questions and said he'd seen something go by, but the visibility was for shit in the murky water and he couldn't be sure.

"Where's Geiszler?" As soon as Raleigh was safely aboard the boat, Mako turned to scan the lake. "Weren't you two together?"

"He got ahead of me. Then I saw something moving and swam off a different direction."

Chuck squinted against the water streaming out of his hair and catching the blinding morning sun, then gestured off to port. "There! I see bubbles!"

The deputy gunned the motor, and the boat leapt forward in an arc. Sure enough, Geiszler surfaced just as they reached him. Unfortunately, instead of being scared by how freaked out they all were, the little bastard just kept asking what they'd seen. Finally, without consulting on it, Chuck and Raleigh both reached down and grabbled the wanker under the arms and lifted him up into the boat without asking permission.

"Burke, bring up the speaker!"

"Chuck, why are you wet? What the hell happened up here? I thought I saw something, but when I got there, it was just a big ol' moose corpse."

"Something pulled the boat, and I got flipped into the drink a-fucking-gain."

The speaker cleared the surface, those annoying squawking sounds blaring forth again. As suddenly as everything else that had happened, there was an enormous splash on that side of the boat, and Mako started shouting. Almost screaming.

The sound was bloodcurdling.

Chuck spun to look, his heart lurching. At first, he thought perhaps the deputy was bending over the side of the boat to see what the splashing was. Then, he realized the body was juttering and flopping, and... oh... oh, Jesus Christ....

"Grab him! Jesus, he's going over!"

Mako and Raleigh leapt forward and grabbed the body by the belt before it could spill over the side. It _was_ a body, not a man, despite the shuddering limbs.

It was a body, because it didn't have a head.

Something... God only knew what... had bit it clean off.

Shuddering himself, cold and soaked and scared for his life and the lives of these people he'd come to know, Chuck sank down to the floor of the boat and put his face in his hands.


	15. Chapter 15

Raleigh pressed the end button, then just stared at the phone for a moment. He wanted to call Yancy. He knew better -- no reason to freak his brother out -- but... just in case. Just to say hi, I love you, you're the best brother in the world even though you throw the PS3 controllers and steal my sweaters and drink directly from the milk jug.

He wanted to call Jazmine and listen to her chatter about how her marine biology courses were going, tell her he loved her and wished he was there so he could hug her. And muss her hair. She hated it, but he suspected she kinda liked it, too.

He missed Alaska sometimes. He knew Yancy hated the place, associated it with their worthless dick of a father who hadn't been man enough to deal with his three kids once his wife was gone, but Raleigh loved it. Maine was close, but it just wasn't quite right.

Sighing, he shoved the phone into his pocket and looked blankly at his clipboard. The paperwork was a blur. He couldn't even tell what page he was on.

Then, he looked up, and there was Chuck. The man's ginger hair stood up in all directions, and he filled out another set of Raleigh's clothes -- a t-shirt and jeans, this time -- well enough that Raleigh would have looked anyway, but for the moment, Chuck Hansen was gone. That freckled face was pale, the eyes wide and empty, one hand clutching weakly at the opposite arm.

The poor guy just wanted to prove he was good at his job. He hadn't signed on to see a man beheaded by goddamn nothing anyone saw.

He'd never been good at comforting people. Animals were easy. Most domesticated ones calmed with a few gentle strokes and maybe a scratch under the chin. People, though....

Awkward, he walked slowly over. "Hey. U.S. Wildlife's on their way."

Nothing. No change in that wide-eyed, lost expression.

"Local police are keeping the press in the dark so there's no panic. Basically, everyone just wants us to sit tight and wait for the cavalry."

Light-colored eyes -- a clear, bright grey, either from the sunlight filtering down through the trees or from whatever was happening inside that ginger head -- shifted to meet his own, and Raleigh fought the urge to reach out and give the poor guy a hug.

"Chuck? Are you all right?"

He blinked. "No one saw anything. 'S like a fucking magic trick."

Tucking the clipboard under one arm, he reached out with the other and laid a hand on a broad shoulder. _"Are_ you all right, Chuck?"

"No." Sighing, he ran a hand up his face and shook his head. "Yeah. I'm fine." He forced a grin that went nowhere near those clear, haunting eyes. "I'm Australian, yeah?"

The man wasn't fine, but... neither was Raleigh. He'd be a liar if he said he was. He wasn't sure he'd ever close his eyes without seeing the deputy's hiking boots drumming against the floor of the boat, the glaring wrongness of the neck just stopping above the shoulders when there should be a head still attached there. So he gave that broad shoulder a squeeze, then took his hand back and stared blankly at his clipboard again.

"Need some help with that, mate?"

He looked up and found himself smiling softly. There was personality in that gaze, now. The essential Chuck was back. And very, very welcome.

"I work for a museum, yeah? Paperwork is my second specialty."

Relieved, Raleigh gestured toward the distant burned-out campfire and the stump seats around it. "I think I'll take you up on that."

"After you, mate."


	16. Chapter 16

Mako hated dealing with state troopers. But she hated having to sign over the body of one of her deputies more.

"It happened suddenly. No one saw anything."

The statie taking her statement eyed her like he had a hard time believing anything she said. "You sure it wasn't the outboard?"

A bear. A beaver. A dinosaur. The outboard. Would it ever stop?

Sighing, she blinked slowly, then looked the kid -- because he looked fresh out of the academy -- right in the eyes. "It wasn't. The outboard. Got it?"

Without giving him a chance to condescend to her again, she turned and walked away to find someplace to be alone. She'd seen two people die in two days, both of them in horrible, bloody ways. One of them her own deputy that she'd known for years.

Unfortunately, when she finally found a secluded tree to lean against, she saw the professor hauling some of his equipment from the dock back up to camp. Before she could duck away, he saw her and arrowed straight for her.

God help her, but she couldn't handle his personality right now.

"Sheriff... I'm very sorry about your deputy."

Wary, she lifted her head enough to eye him and gauge his level of sincerity. To her surprise, he really did look sincere.

"I'm sure he was a good man. He seemed nice."

Slightly less wary, she nodded. "He was."

"You know, when someone I just met dies, I always feel like it's a shame I didn't know them better."

Aaaaaand there it was. All about him again.

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss, professor."

He blinked, taken aback. "Not... sorry, that's not really what I meant. I just...."

Thank God, but he stopped talking, and she resumed staring off at the lake. It brought her no peace now, no feeling of tranquility.

"His head was... just bitten off. Just like that. Nobody saw it. It was just gone."

She didn't mean to say any of that. Especially not to the feckless jerk standing so awkwardly before her. But it was out now and couldn't be taken back.

"I had a dream like that once."

Wary all over again, she eyed him while he fidgeted.

"I woke up and my head fell off. My body kept trying to walk around, but I kept bumping into everything."

She had no idea where this was going. Nor did she feel particularly comforted by it.

"And my parents... they kicked me out of the house because they'd just bought a bunch of really fragile antiques, and they were afraid I'd break something. Nice, huh?"

Nervous now, she looked around for escape, but no one else was near. How the hell did she get into situations like this?

"And then the neighborhood kids saw my head on the ground, and one of them said hey, it looks like a ball, so they started kicking it around like a soccer ball, and while they did it, I was... man, I was just so glad to be part of the game for once."

He looked at her expectantly, and she abruptly realized she was supposed to say something in response. Unfortunately, she had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Tell me what you're thinking right now."

She blinked very slowly. "Professor Geiszler, I think you've mistaken me for a therapist."

Before he could say anything else, she turned and walked away. Before she reached the safety of the treeline, something snagged her foot and jerked her off her feet. She shouted, then came to a halt, upside down, four or five feet off the ground.

Geiszler fidgeted, not quite daring to come closer.

For once, she approved of his decision. If he came within reach, she was going to kill him herself.

Thankfully, she heard footsteps and familiar voices, and before she could fully plot out the brutal details of exactly how she would feed him to the hypothetical crocodile they were all wasting their time trying to find, Raleigh and Chuck came into view and stopped cold.

Oh, thank you, heaven and earth. Sane people.

Once they'd taken everything in, they hurried over.

"Jesus, Mako, what the hell happened?" Raleigh was already reaching for her trapped leg. "How did this...?"

"I could let her down, but she looks like she wants to hurt me."

Oh, she did. She very much did.

"Mako?" That was Chuck, bending close, his pale, freckled face a surprisingly welcome sight. "Are you all right?"

Yes, he had grown on her. He really was a good guy under all the city-ness and bluster.

"I want to get down."

He nodded and stood up. "Geiszler?"

"First she has to promise not to hurt me."

Raleigh scowled. "Geiszler. Now."

"Okay, okay. Just pull her down. It's a counterweight system."

Three sets of hands pawed at her -- Raleigh's at her trapped leg, Chuck's at her belt, and Geiszler's at her shoulders to ease her down onto the ground. Once she wouldn't just drop, Raleigh caught ahold of the cord coming down from the tree and pulled it down for some slack so Chuck could loosen the lash around her ankle and ease her foot out. They all tried to help her up, none of them noticing as her hand closed around a sizeable length of tree branch hidden by all the leaf cover.

"Okay, Mako. You're good, right?" Raleigh sounded so earnest. Pleading, even. Pity. "It's over. Nobody hurt."

She brushed at herself with one hand, rising slowly to her feet, the branch still hidden, though Geiszler backed away to a safer distance, just in case. Chuck, bless him, tried to tuck her hair behind her ear to get a better look at her face.

"Mako...." Uh-oh. He saw the intent. "Mako, you promised not to hurt him."

She stood up, branch in hand. "No, I didn't."

Before they could stop her, she darted away, the improvised club in hand. Geiszler gave a little squeak and ran back down the path he'd just come up. Idiot. It only led back down to the beach, where he'd be cornered.

Chuck and Raleigh blundered along behind her, but she was as fleet as a deer and always had been, and she had nearly caught up to the infuriating asshole by the time they spilled out onto the rocky strip of beach.

"Nowhere to go, professor."

Panting, he glanced around, then ducked down to pick up a fair-sized rock. "Don't come any closer!"

Raleigh made it to the beach first and immediately threw himself between them. "Mako, don't. He's an asshole, but he's not worth your badge."

Chuck was right behind. To his credit, he didn't try to wedge the club out of her grip. He just put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "I know he's a wanker, Mako, but Raleigh's right. He's not worth the paperwork if you assault him."

She didn't care. That asshole had been nothing but a plague upon them, and she was done dealing with his bullshit.

Before she could win free of her would-be saviors, though, a roar erupted from the woods behind them. Raleigh's eyes went wide, and then he shoved her bodily aside and leapt toward Chuck. She rolled away, then could only sit and stare as a huge brown bear lumbered out into the clearing, headed right for Geiszler and his pitiful little rock.

A brown bear. Unbelievable, impossible even. They must have invaded its territory because bears didn't randomly attack unless they were starving or injured or otherwise stirred up.

All of which meant nothing. Geiszler dodged aside, tripped over a log, and ended up on his ass, staring up at a solid nine feet of angry bear looming over him. Raleigh and Chuck were tangled up just beside her and staring, too gobsmacked to help.

The bear roared and pawed at the air.

And then... it happened.

Her first thought was that the ME was right all along. Because that was a dinosaur speeding out of the water and getting a mouthful of bear haunch and starting a deathroll while the bear yowled and struggled in the rocky shale. Then, some of the fog cleared, and she saw that she was both right and wrong.

A crocodile. An enormous, science fiction-sized crocodile.

The bear won free for a moment, but the croc was too fast and got a better grip with its jaws. All four of those short but powerful legs churned backwards, and crocodile and bear disappeared back into the lake in a weirdly final splash.

Ripples.

Silence.

She swallowed hard, her mouth and throat as dry as a desert. "Okay." She swallowed again. "Okay, I believe you. It's a crocodile."

Ancestors help her, but no one argued.


	17. Chapter 17

The sun was going down on the second longest day of his life, but Chuck felt strangely energized. No, it wasn't a dinosaur, but a fucking giant croc was probably as close to one as he would ever get in the flesh. And yes, it had almost killed them all -- several times now -- but that just seemed to amp him up even further.

He clicked through pictures on Geiszler's laptop, discarding croc after croc. This one didn't have the right markings. That one didn't have the right tail-to-torso ratio. That one didn't have the right scales.

"The scales were oval, right, Geiszler? Not an American croc, for sure. Indo-Pacific, you think?" He pulled up a picture of an Indo-Pacific crocodile, and the particulars seemed to match up. All but the size, of course. "Jesus, the fucker's probably all the way from Asia."

Mako, who'd spent the past half hour with a cool bottle of water pressed to the center of her forehead, sighed. "I don't see how that's possible. How would it even get here?"

Geiszler, apparently still miffed about the attempted beating earlier -- frankly, Chuck had far more sympathy for the sheriff than the wanker -- snorted. "Obviously, some asshole in Tokyo flushed it down the toilet."

Her eyes narrowed, and she finally lowered the bottle. "Professor Geiszler, could you, for one second, stop treating me like some backwoods idiot cop who doesn't know her ass from a hole in the ground?"

Oblivious to his peril, as usual, the moron put up a finger with blatant condescension. "Oh, no, sheriff. It was your deputy who found the hole I put in the ground."

"That's it."

The bottle went flying, and Mako stomped across the clearing. Chuck practically tossed the laptop aside, but Raleigh beat him to a place between the combatants. Unfortunately, Geiszler had no intention of being stalled now and proceeded to yap around the poor bloke's bulk like a coked-out chihuahua.

"No, no, it's fine, officer. I'm tired of her, too. See, what the good sheriff doesn't realize is that being rich gave my parents plenty of opportunity to dump me off at karate school." The dumbass actually thumbed his nose. "I _am_ a brown belt. So go ahead. Let ol' Tokyo Rose do her thing."

Before anyone could intervene, Mako dipped around Raleigh's outstretched arm and, in three murderously precise hits, had Geiszler flat on his back on the ground, gasping and gagging and apparently unsure what needed his attention first -- his throat or his chest.

Chuck blinked. "Jesus. Remind me never to piss you off."

Even Raleigh seemed stunned as he stared down at the fallen professor. "You hit him."

Unimpressed, she crossed her arms and shrugged. "He said he knew karate."

Raleigh, looking as confused as a puppy, turned his attention to her. "But you _hit_ him."

"He told me to."

Snorting, Chuck shook his head. "She has a point. He really can't file charges for assault. I'll be happy to testify that he did, in fact, tell her to hit him."

Geiszler gasped accusingly, apparently still unable to speak. Chuck glared at him.

"And that he fucking deserved it for being such a wanker to her from the start."

Finally, said wanker managed to sit up, though he massaged at his throat and kept gagging each time he tried to swallow. "You're... supposed... to say 'go'... in karate."

Chuck didn't have to look to know Mako was rolling her eyes. "My father was a respected swordmaker in Japan, professor. I've been in _real_ training since I took my first steps. 'Go' is for tournaments, not for assholes who underestimate people without actually taking their measure."

Raleigh covered his mouth with his hand. Chuck debated whether he should offer the wanker some aloe for such an eloquent burn.

Geiszler, on the other hand, cleared his throat painfully and struggled to his feet, though he kept his hands on his knees and still struggled to breathe easily. Before any hostilities could reopen, Raleigh again stepped between the potential combatants.

"It's over, guys. What say we all go to our separate tents? Professor?"

Another hurking noise, and Mako rolled her eyes and started away. Then, just as she reached the clearing, she stopped, squared her shoulders, turned around, and strode back. Chuck had no intention of getting in her way, though he could tell that Raleigh definitely wanted to.

But despite her earlier anger, she really was a professional. So, instead of kicking the wanker square in the ass, she put an arm around his waist and helped him to stand straighter.

Neither spoke as they made their slow, halting way toward Geiszler's tent.

When they were finally out of sight, Raleigh shook his head and huffed. "Jesus. It feels like babysitting."

Chuck grunted. "Too right, mate."

As he went to retrieve the fallen laptop, he saw something dark on the sleeve of the bloke's faded grey t-shirt. For a second, he thought it was a giant insect of some sort and nearly called out a warning. Then, he realized there were trickles of dark stuff running down the bloke's arm under the sleeve and... Jesus.

"Oi, you all right then, mate? Are you bleeding?"

Blinking, Raleigh looked where Chuck was pointing. "Huh. When did that happen?"

The laptop again forgotten, he stepped closer and tugged the sleeve up a bit, revealing an angry-looking, jagged cut. "Jesus, Raleigh. Looks like it hurts a bitch. You don't know what did it?"

The poor sod paled a bit now that he saw the damage. "Uh... maybe when the bear attacked? I hit the ground pretty hard. Maybe landed on something."

Because he'd grabbed Chuck and twisted around to cushion the fall. Blushing and hoping the shifting firelight hid it, Chuck rolled the sleeve up further to keep it out of the way.

"I can fix that, yeah?"

The bloke's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

And he could, actually. Grinning, he gestured for Raleigh to follow him and headed off for his tent. He and his old man might not always agree on things, but one thing they both absolutely endorsed was never traveling further than to a shop without a first aid kit. Even his mum backed that sentiment. Soon enough, he had the pretty bastard settled on his sleeping bag and his personalized kit in hand.

Honestly, the poor sod could do with some stitches, but it was probably bad form to come at the bloke with a suture needle and demand that he trust him, so he pulled out butterfly clamps instead, a nice pile of alcohol wipes and gauze pads, and a roll of nursing tape. They were quiet as he worked, despite the occasional hiss or cringe at either the sting of alcohol or a touch that wasn't quite gentle enough.

As he pulled on the last clamp, the bloke finally spoke up.

"So... who taught you how to be an EMT?"

Smirking a little at the pretty bastard still being able to take the piss after the day he'd had, Chuck pressed his thumb gently along the edges, making sure they were securely stuck. "My old man did a stint as a medic way back when he first signed up. I coulda stitched you up, but I didn't figure you'd appreciate the salty Australian bloke you just met yesterday coming after you with a suture needle."

"Yeah. No offense, but... no thanks."

The smirk softened to a grin, and he tore off a few strips of nursing tape, sticking them lightly to his own arm until he needed them. He normally wouldn't want to cover a wound that had stopped bleeding, but this was the goddamn woods. God only knew what would get into it before it scabbed over properly.

He'd just placed the gauze pad when the bloke spoke up again, a grin slowly stretching his mouth.

"You shoulda seen the look on your face when that bear came roaring out of the woods."

Despite himself, he snorted, even as he taped the gauze down. "Fuck that, mate. Did you see the look on the bear?"

Lo and behold, but that got an actual chuckle out of the pretty sod, and Chuck finally gave up any last pretense. He liked the bastard. That chuckle was low and whiskey-smooth, and, frankly, Chuck sort of wanted to taste it on his tongue.

But this wasn't the time for that, so he deliberately turned the conversation as he sat back against his pillow. With the wound all patched up, he no longer had an excuse to touch the bloke. Time to move on to safer waters.

"Mate, that croc had to be, what... nine meters? More? I've never seen anything like it."

To his surprise, Raleigh rolled down his sleeve but made no move to get up and leave. "Neither have I. I mean, between Maine and Alaska, where I used to live, I haven't exactly had a lot of crocodile encounters."

Alaska. There was a story there, Chuck would wager. But maybe now wasn't the time.

Leaning forward, he crossed his legs lotus style. "I mean, I'm a paleontologist, yeah? This thing... Raleigh, it's as close as I'll ever get to studying a living, breathing dinosaur. It's... fuck, it has to be a hundred years old to be that big. More, even. It's... it's a fucking _miracle."_

The bloke smiled softly, looking up at him from under a fan of golden eyelashes. "You're having the time of your life, aren't you?"

He opened his mouth to agree vehemently, then realized... shit. What kind of asshole was having the time of his life whilst people were dying horribly left and right? Caught between the two, he could only gape like an idiot.

"It's okay, Chuck." The rotten sod grinned, and Chuck suddenly realized he had a light brown mole just at his laugh line between his nose and his lips. The detail seemed important somehow. "You were right, and you _should_ be having a good time with it."

He blinked, suddenly wondering if this was flirting or not. It was drawing down dark outside, but the glow from his LED lantern made a cozy little pocket of light, just for them, inside his tent. Flustered suddenly, he damn near forgot what the hell they were even talking about.

"I... what?"

"Mako told me you knew as soon as you saw it that the tooth was reptilian, not from a bear or anything else we'd normally see around here." That smile. Jesus, what he'd do to see the bloke smile like that all the time. "You were right."

It struck him, then. Not flirting, exactly, but... validating, maybe. He'd told Raleigh he wanted to prove he was ace at his job so when he went back to New York, he could rub his boss' face in it. Rub his old man's face in it. Prove that no matter why they'd hired him originally, he was damn well worth it now.

Raleigh was telling him--

"You may be the first paleontologist this century to study a living relic of a bygone age, Chuck. That's nothing to sneeze at."

This gorgeous bloke that had dropped into his life from out of nowhere, that he'd have never met if not for a series of ridiculously impossible events, was telling him that he, Chuck Hansen, was good enough.

Was he? He'd never felt like enough. He'd always felt....

"Do...." He paused, tilted his head, and bit the bullet. "Mate, do you ever lie awake at night and think that, in another life, you were so much more badass than you are right now?"

Warm blue eyes met his. "You've survived three separate attempts on your life by a giant, killer crocodile in two days." Those full, beautifully shaped lips curved on that goddamn beautiful smile. "I think you're badass enough, Chuck."

His heart stuttered, and he wanted nothing more than to lean across the space between them and kiss the gorgeous bastard. Not even just because he was pretty, although that was a strong draw on its own. Just... no one had ever said anything like that to him before, and... Jesus, he had no idea what to do with it.

Apparently, Raleigh realized he was a bit overwhelmed, because the bloke lowered his eyes again, those fuck-all lashes glowing gold in the low light. "We should probably go to bed."

Chuck's mouth opened of its own volition.

Thank God, but the bloke backtracked quickly -- and with an adorable fluster -- when he realized what he'd said. "Uh... separate. Sleep. We should... uh... different tents and... yeah."

Jerking to his feet, the poor sod tried to stay hunched over so as not to wreck the tent as he made a sudden and graceless exit. Chuck watched, caught between amusement and abandonment. Just as he thought the bloke would really leave without so much as a goodbye, the silly sausage bent down to peer at him through the tent's opening

"Thanks for the, uh...." Giving up, he pointed toward his bandaged arm.

"Right. No worries, mate."

And just like that... gone.

Despite the fact that he'd somehow just chased the prettiest piece of ass he'd seen all year out of his tent, despite how unsettled he felt about what Raleigh had said, Chuck couldn't help but lean back against his pillow with a crooked smile. He'd hopefully be having very sweet dreams tonight, indeed.

Because unless he missed his guess... _that_ was flirting.


	18. Chapter 18

Raleigh had no intention of making things weird. Yes, the snarky Australian New York paleontologist had somehow grown on him. Yes, he very much liked the way the guy filled out Raleigh's old, faded jeans. Yes, he was even fairly certain Chuck was interested in return.

But this was absolutely not the time. And even if it was... New York was really, really far away.

He'd do well to keep that fact in mind.

By tacit agreement, they all decided to stay the hell on land until U.S. Wildlife showed up. Thus, Mako organized an expedition to go hunting for evidence on land because she was very, very tired of other officials doubting her. Them. The severity of the situation.

Unfortunately, Chuck had forgotten his travel can of Raid back at camp, and now the poor guy was paranoid that he'd be infested with ticks and couldn't stop muttering about it. Mako trooped along just fine, of course, but Hu looked like he hadn't had nearly enough of Tendo's coffee before they left camp.

The other two deputies -- a fierce, powerful-looking woman who introduced herself as Sasha with a smile that bared entirely too many teeth and a giant bear of a man, Aleksis, whose friendly handshake had swallowed Raleigh's hand whole -- seemed fine, but it was hard to tell. They were... hardcore. He was pretty sure they could stroll along casually while ablaze and being pelted with small arms fire.

Sighing, he tried to force himself to pay attention. The crocodile, despite its size, had been lightning fast, even on land. The last thing he wanted was to be put in a position to try and outrun it because they didn't see it coming.

After an hour or so of slow but steady hiking, Hu suddenly let out a low whistle. They all stopped and looked where he pointed, and Raleigh felt his internal temperature drop twenty degrees.

That was one huge footprint.

Definitely from the crocodile. Thankfully, not so fresh that groundwater hadn't seeped up into it. And pretty much exactly what they were looking for.

Thus, though everyone suddenly felt at least twenty percent less safe, no one objected to stopping and making a mold. Geiszler had given them his kit willingly enough, though he had declined to join them. Raleigh could only guess the guy was holding a grudge from Mako's beatdown the night before, though she'd assured him it wouldn't happen again.

Ten minutes later, after an impromptu photo op that the lone Wei triplet took full advantage of with his cell phone, Raleigh and Chuck were crouched around a careful patch of slowly-drying white gunk. Both of them were liberally streaked with plaster to the elbow, and Chuck wasn't thrilled by how long it was taking for the mess to dry.

"The groundwater's too close to the surface, and it's really not dry enough this time of year to speed things up." Sighing, Raleigh stood and stretched backward. His back ached from hunching over for so long. "Maybe we should mark the place and move on, then come back after lunch."

Grumbling, Chuck did much the same -- standing and stretching backward with his fists in the small of his back. The pose had the unfortunate -- totally fortunate -- side effect of stretching Raleigh's old blue t-shirt across a chest much too toned for a museum nerd. "What if something walks across it and mushes it? Or digs it up?"

Raleigh started to suggest that maybe they could fence it off a bit, but Chuck chose that moment to take a step back. The heel of his tennis shoe came down on a branch haphazardly levered against a rock. As the poor guy flailed his arms to keep his balance, something came catapulting out of the brush from the other end of the branch and bounced off his shins.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck!"

Of course it was a severed head. And of course it had flung itself at Chuck, of all people.

"Jesus! Jesus Christ!"

Not good. The head was bad enough, but Chuck was edging close to a panic attack over there, and while Raleigh didn't blame him one bit, he had to nip it in the bud. Heedless of his plaster-streaked hands, he stepped over the severed head and gently took the guy by the upper arms.

"Chuck, it's okay."

"Fuck! Raleigh, Jesus Christ, it's a fucking head!"

"I know, but it's okay. Just breathe, okay?"

"Fuck that! Why the fuck to I keep getting hit with heads? Jesus, Raleigh, I can't--"

He looked around for help, but Mako and the deputies were gathered around the head and murmuring to each other. He made out a name -- Burke, the beheaded deputy, of course -- then tuned out entirely. The panicking Australian was, apparently, all Raleigh's.

Great.

"Chuck, it's gonna be okay, okay? Just breathe with me. Calm down and breathe with me?"

The muscle under his hands thrummed, those broad shoulders heaving as the poor guy tried to keep from hyperventilating.

"I can't fucking calm down, goddammit! I keep getting hit with heads, and it freaks me the fuck out!"

"I know. I'm sorry. Just... calm down--"

"I am very fucking calm, okay? I am composed as fuck, but that is a human head over there, and it flew out of nowhere at me, and I... fuck... I need to...."

Shit, shit, shit. Chuck was officially going down.

"Whoa, there." Thinking fast, Raleigh guided him over to a downed tree and let him sink down onto it. "Head between your knees, okay? And keep breathing."

The poor guy obliged as best he could, and Raleigh ran a hand up and down the heaving back. Unfortunately, just as it seemed one disaster was averted, the police all jumped back as one, startling him. And startling Chuck all over again.

"Jesus, now what?"

"It moved." Her hand on her gun, Mako backed another step away. "By itself."

Six people stared with morbid fascination, their breath held. Just as Mako started to lean back in, a snake slithered out the gaping mouth, the lips pulling after it grotesquely.

A collective cry of disgust rose from the Greek chorus, but Chuck just moaned and cringed back far enough that he almost fell off the log.

"Fuck... fuck... Raleigh, I just wanna go back to my tent, okay? I can't fucking do snakes, mate. I damn near lost my leg. Can... can I just go back to my tent?"

But Raleigh's attention was caught by something behind Chuck, and he was up off the log before he could even think of comforting the poor guy. Or ask what the hell had happened to his leg, because that sounded like an important story to know.

"You gotta be shitting me."

"I'm not shitting you! I swear, I won't step foot out of it for the rest of the trip, mate, just--"

"No, not you." Flailing blindly, he tried to pat the poor guy on the shoulder while gesturing out across the cove with the other hand. "Look. Who's got binoculars?"

To his credit, Chuck stood and turned to see what Raleigh was pointing at. They both took the binoculars offered them.

"Oi, that's the headcase's place, yeah? Chau?"

Apparently, they'd come a good deal further than Raleigh thought, though it looked to be a hell of a long walk all the way around the cove. Especially with the timber so thick around the place.

"Wait... what the...?"

Raleigh adjusted the focus knob and... sure enough, he could confirm what he thought he'd seen. That was Hannibal Chau, dressed in rubber boots and overalls, leading a cow from the barn and across the yard to the slip of beach.

"Is... Raleigh, is that cow blindfolded?"

It was. Why the fuck would--

"Oh, fuck me. Raleigh, out in the water. Twenty meters or so."

He swung the binoculars further out and... oh. Oh, no.

The deputies and Mako all crowded up around them, squinting. Inevitably, they saw the giant crocodile -- huge even at this distance -- floating like a malevolent log out in Hannibal Chau's private cove and startled. Raleigh was fairly certain that every single one of them suddenly knew why the cow was blindfolded.

Sure enough, the crazy fuck strolled down the gravelly beach, the cow following trustingly on its halter lead. When they reached the water, Chau let the poor thing's head go down so it could drink, then unclipped the lead rope and backed away with a final, unnecessary swat to the haunch.

The crocodile glided in close, barely visible now other than the bumps of its nostrils and eyes. And as the cow took another few steps into the water for a better drink, it attacked.

The cow didn't die fast, and its noises as it thrashed and rolled in the croc's deadly grip were pitiful and gut-wrenching. Then, just like with the bear, just like with the deputy in the boat, it was over and the lake was, again, calm and untroubled.

Like Chuck said. Like a fucking magic trick.

Jesus.


	19. Chapter 19

Thrumming with righteous anger, Mako glared up at the criminal, not caring one iota that the goggles hid his eyes. She knew exactly what look the smoked glass was hiding.

"I haven't broken any laws."

She scoffed. "Bullshit. You lied to us, Mr. Chau. If nothing else, that is obstruction of justice. One of my deputies is dead in large part because of that lie, so I could easily make a case for negligent homicide, as well."

Hu crossed his arms and grunted. "Not to mention how much PETA would love how you treat your cows."

Unimpressed, Chau smirked and tossed another handful of chicken feed. "Considering how many viable, adoptable animals PETA shelters euthanize within twenty-four hours _every year_ and their history of financially supporting domestic terrorists who'll firebomb research facilities and clinics for the right price? Yeah, that threat doesn't exactly make me quake in my boots, little man."

Gritting her teeth, Mako retook the floor. "Then how about I bring up your smuggling of illegal and banned substances into this country to add to your remedies?"

Silence.

"Oh, yes, sir. My office requested your record this morning. You are on very thin ice right now, Mr. Chau." Again, she leaned into his space. "Do not dare me to break it."

The big man considered, then shrugged. "Fine. I didn't say anything because I figured you'd kill it. Was I wrong?"

Raleigh, who had very much wanted to take this interrogation but had graciously admitted that the criminal aspect put the situation in her jurisdiction instead of his, chimed in. "But why do you even care?"

Another handful of chicken feed, though Mako suspected this one was to buy himself a moment to weigh his options.

"Too much invested in it, really."

Narrowing her eyes, she stared him down again. "How so?"

Sighing, he put down the feed bucket. "Look, lady. Do you have any idea how much that thing's gonna be worth when it finally dies of natural causes? You saw it. It's gotta be, what, a hundred and fifty years old?"

Mako frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I've been documenting the damn thing and feeding the hell out of it since it followed me home from a pick-up six years ago. When it goes, everything from its hide to its bones to its goddamn teeth will be worth a mint on the black market. Not to mention how much I can mark up my remedies for including it in the mix."

Raleigh pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you say six years?"

Out of nowhere, Chuck startled. "Jesus, Chau. Did... did you feed your partner to it, too?"

But at that, the criminal stiffened and jerked an accusing finger in Chuck's direction. "You shut the fuck up, Dundee. Santiago was my friend. Got it?"

"Oi, I got your Mick Dundee right fucking here--"

Thank God, but Raleigh intervened, cutting Chuck off before he could do more than take a step forward. Ignoring them, Mako kept her focus on the clear and present danger in front of her.

"What. Happened."

Gritting his jaw, Chau rolled his shoulders. "I told you. He fell out of a tree and broke damn near every bone in his body."

"Sir, I don't think you understand the severity--"

 _"That_ tree."

The criminal pointed over toward the barn, where an enormous pine towered over the structure, its branches stretching out over the beach and the water below.

"He landed right on the goddamn beach, okay? The croc started coming in, and Santiago couldn't get away. I went to help, but...." Grunting, Chau reached up and jerked off his goggles. His left eye was a mess from the eyebrow to the cheek. It looked like he'd almost lost the eye entirely. "I caught a faceful of tail, instead. If I'd reported it, you'd have sent people to kill it. Santiago was already gone. What the hell good would it have done?"

Unmoved, Mako propped her fists on her hips. "How could you _not_ report this, sir? It puts human life at risk."

"Whose? Mine? Nobody else lives on this lake, lady. For all intents and purposes, it's _his_ lake."

"And yet, in the past three days, two people have died. So yes, it _does_ put lives at risk." She turned her head enough to talk over her shoulder without actually looking away from Chau. "Officers Kaidanovsky."

Sasha moved up to her right side. Aleksis moved up to her left.

"I'm placing Mr. Chau under house arrest until other arrangements can be made. You two will enforce this arrest until you are relieved by higher authorities."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You can't be serious." Without the goggles, Chau actually looked surprised. "You're seriously arresting me for raising a goddamn pet in the wild?"

Again, she stepped into his space and did her best to take up as much of it as possible. She didn't need the Kaidanovskys to be intimidating. "I am preventing you from further interfering with this investigation and with the elimination of this threat to human life. So yes, Mr. Chau. I _am_ serious. You are under house arrest for negligent homicide, obstruction of justice, reckless endangerment, and anything else I can think up, and that's without throwing in smuggling or calling the FDA to come analyze your home remedies to make sure they contain what you say they do."

Her walkie clicked at her hip, and without another word, she turned on her heel and strode away. She didn't look back to see if the criminal tried to follow her or not. The Kaidanovskys were more than a match for Hannibal Chau.

"Sheriff?"

She popped the handset off her belt. "Come back, Tendo."

"Sheriff, we have a problem with Professor Geiszler."

She stopped stalk still. What the hell had that idiot done now?

"What kind of problem?"

The pause did nothing for her nerves.

"He... went for a swim."

In the water. Where the giant, killer crocodile was.

She didn't bother pressing the button. She wasn't talking to Tendo. She wasn't even talking to the little huddle of deputies and officers and the lone civilian following her.

"I swear to God, I'll kill him myself."

It was going to be a long walk back to base camp.


	20. Chapter 20

Chuck knew Newt Gieszler could be a feckless moron. He knew the selfish little prick only ever thought of himself and his precious mythology and his even more precious crocodiles.

But listening to Deputy Tendo, who had been nice to Chuck right from the start, report on how the idiot's latest stunt had ended up with the goddamn killer croc dangling from the airborne chopper's ripped-to-hell pontoon whilst Tendo fired a full clip at the damn thing to scare it off....

Geiszler had been perhaps a meter away from being eaten alive. That was bad enough, but the bloody wanker had damn near taken Tendo down with him. Even at Chuck's worst, he would never put someone else at risk like that.

Mako was ominously silent on the matter, but that was okay because Raleigh -- taciturn, man-of-few-words Officer Becket -- was more than voluble as he unloaded the battered chopper by literally throwing things out of it at the beach.

"I warned you, Geiszler. I warned you what would happen if you endangered someone. The _sheriff_ warned you."

Geiszler fidgeted at the edge of the water, occasionally dodging a case that came too close for comfort. "That's some really expensive equipment you're throwing ar--"

"I. Don't. Care." Another hardcase went flying haphazardly. "I don't _care_ if you think they're godly. I don't _care_ if you get your kicks swimming with the Old Ones." The furious bloke came crawling out with one last, apparently heavy case, and strode right past Geiszler and up the beach toward the trail. "You just put a deputy at risk out there, asshole, and you are grounded. You're lucky the sheriff hasn't already arrested you."

"Hey, look at me -- I'm fine. It didn't eat me!"

Chuck tried to gesture at the damn fool to just shut up, but Geiszler, as usual, was too focused on the shiny in front of him to see that the salty but quiet Fish and Game officer was done with a capital fuck-you.

"Because it just ate a goddamn cow, stupid! Not to mention a goddamn bear last night!"

Oh, no. Newt did not take well to insults to his intelligence.

Sure enough, the wanker's face turned brick red, his eyes wide and hectic behind his glasses. "You listen here, Mr. Fish and Game. I am a human being. Not a trout. Not a mink. Okay?" Jesus. The little shit actually poked a finger in Raleigh's face. "You have no authority over me whatsoever!"

Finally, Mako chimed in, her voice almost as hard and sharp as when she talked down to Chau. "I can arrest you. Reckless endangerment, at the very least."

Geiszler sputtered, then drew himself up. "Then go ahead and do it! I quit!"

Whilst everyone stared with varying degrees of anger and incredulity, the hotheaded little shite stomped off toward the camp, leaving all his expensive equipment behind. Silence fell, leaving Mako rubbing her temples and Raleigh clenching his jaw.

Great. This day just kept getting better and better.

"Think you might've hurt his feelings there, mate."

Raleigh jerked his head up to glare at him. "I don't care. He's an asshole."

Chuck quickly put his hands up. "Oi, you'll get no argument from me. Just sayin. He's liable to do something even more stupid, now that you've balked him."

He looked around the little group of various law enforcement types. Not a one of them budged.

Even more great.

"Fine. I'll go. But you lot owe me bigtime."

Muttering and grumbling with every step, he made his way up the trail back to camp, waving irritably at the mosquitos that had found him in increasing numbers over the course of the day. It was hotter, for one thing, and hiking about in the fucking bush worked up one fuck of a lot more sweat than getting dumped out of one boat after another on the lake. The combination apparently made him filet fucking mignon to the blood-drinking set.

Thus, he wasn't exactly in an accommodating mood when he flung open the flap of Geiszler's ludicrously huge tent and strode inside. His thundery mood didn't, however, prevent him from seeing the genuine upset all over the bloke sitting so morosely at his desk set-up.

Dammit. He'd never particularly liked the odd little wanker who occasionally donated artifacts to the museums and provided so much free documentary-style nature footage from around the world. They'd even had lunch together once, though Chuck had quickly become annoyed at the prat's constant, blatant attempts to get into his pants and had never agreed to meet him outside the museum again.

It wouldn't be so bad if he thought the bloke was genuinely interested, but the bastard hit on pretty much everything that looked his direction, so it wasn't exactly flattering to be on the receiving end of such ADHD affections. But that was beside the point.

Sighing, he swallowed back some of his irritation and crossed his arms. "So, you really are suicidal, eh? Knew it all along, didn't I?"

The narrow shoulders slumped. "I'm not suicidal, okay? I knew what I was doing."

He snorted and stepped closer. "Oh, you're suicidal, all right. Forget trying to kiss a nine-meter croc that's already killed two people. You took one of Mako's deputies with you to do it, and that, Newt, was suicidal with a capital S."

That got him a red-eyed glare from behind those thick-framed hipster glasses. "I would never hurt Tendo."

But that made Chuck's irritation flare up again. "Oi, but you'll ask him to sit put in a glorified metal cage whilst you fuck about in the water, pissing off a huge ass wild animal that's already taken human life."

"I didn't--" Geiszler cut himself off, his expression going distant. "I didn't mean to put him in danger. I just... I swim with crocs all the time."

"But he _doesn't,_ ya wanker. And unless you were planning to offer him up as a sacrifice to the goddamn Old Ones, there was no reason to drag him along. That fucking thing damn near wrecked your chopper with him in it. Don't you get that?"

"I... I didn't know that would happen."

"That's because you never goddamn think." Sighing, he slumped down into the folding chair next to Newt's. "I may well be an asshole, Gieszler, but you'd never catch me putting someone else's life in danger like that. My own, yeah. But not someone else's."

Eyes downcast, the wanker slumped. "...I'm sorry."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Not me you should apologize to. Think that honor goes to Tendo, yeah?"

Still looking down at his hands loosely clasped in his lap, the miserable sod nodded. "I'll do that." Finally, the bloke looked up. "So... am I gonna be arrested?"

Relieved that all the drama should be over, he snorted. "Fuck if I know, mate. You probably should be, and even if Officer Becket weren't mad enough to spit nails, the sheriff is about two steps shy of nailing your balls to the wall." His eyebrows drew together. "Why _have_ you been trying so hard to piss her off, anyway?"

"I don't know." But the little bastard wouldn't look him in the eyes. "She's... intimidating. But I don't want her to know she scares the crap out of me, so I just keep trying to puff up."

Snickering, Chuck stood up and headed for the exit. "You always have reminded me of one of those little frilled-neck lizards."

To his surprise, the wanker actually looked torn. "I think I should probably be irritated at that, but I'm kinda not."

Shaking his head, he left the irritating bloke behind and headed back toward the clearing. Geiszler was a right prat, but he really hadn't meant to cause such a ruckus. Pouring oil on troubled waters wasn't generally in Chuck's bailiwick, but just this once, he was willing to try to calm everyone the fuck down.

Despite his better judgment, he was starting to like this salty lot.


	21. Chapter 21

Between that Chau asshole's blatant lies and the idiot professor's bullshit stunt, Raleigh had officially gone beyond Thunderdome. If he could just hold everyone together until U.S. Wildlife arrived and took over, he could go home a happy man. At this point, he just didn't want anyone else to die.

God help them.

He felt a bit of his sense of impending doom lessen as Chuck strolled into the clearing, apparently none the worse for wear after a sitdown with Geiszler. In fact, the guy gave Raleigh a grin with full-on dimples, though he quickly turned his weird brand of prickly charm on Mako.

"I think I've impressed upon him that he really did endanger another human being, and he won't do it again, yeah?" The grin widened. "Even got him to promise to apologize to Tendo."

Mako's severe expression softened. It wasn't quite the expression she'd worn while talking to the British guy back in town, but it was close enough. Somehow, Chuck had become someone of which the salty sheriff was genuinely fond. Amazing.

"You said you were a paleontologist." She smiled a bit, and there it was. The same look she'd given the Brit. "You never said you were a miracle worker."

Huh. She _hadn't_ been flirting with the older gent. At least, Raleigh was pretty sure she wasn't flirting with Chuck right now.

He hoped.

Was she?

But Chuck was chuckling, those light-colored eyes of his sparkling in the late afternoon light, and Raleigh felt that same feeling from last night. That "what I wouldn't do to keep this overgrown kid looking just like this" feeling. Last night, it had been the pure, unstudied stymie at Raleigh's compliments about his competence.

Right now, he wanted more of that rich chuckle, those deep dimples. That fucking beautiful smile.

Not the time, he reminded himself. So not the time.

And New York might as well be on the goddamn moon.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke up. "While you were gone, we heard from U.S. Wildlife. Now that we have both visual confirmation and the footprint mold, they're sending up Florida Fish and Game, which is more experienced dealing with crocodiles. They should be here in a few hours."

"Good." Chuck nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, which definitely didn't make the denim stretch across the crotch and definitely didn't get Raleigh's notice. "So, how do they plan on trapping it?"

He blinked, thrown out of his appreciation by an oddly guilty feeling of surprise. And Chuck saw it, because he wasn't an idiot.

"Oi, they will try to trap it, right?"

"No." Where the hell had Geiszler come from? The little bastard stood just to the side of the nearest tent, not quite hiding but clearly not comfortable being in the middle of the group just yet. "They won't, will they, Officer Becket? He's taken human life."

Chuck blinked, and Raleigh felt his stomach sink. The quietly intimate conversation from the night before washed over him, and he suddenly knew that he was in for a fight. Not a physical one, but worse.

"Oi, they're gonna kill it?"

He needed to reason with the guy. Chuck was smart and wouldn't want to put anyone further at risk. He could be reasoned with.

"Chuck, I've never heard of anyone trapping anything this big. I don't think there's ever _been_ a crocodile this big to try it on."

"But they have to try, yeah?" Dammit, those clear eyes pleaded with his. "Jesus, mate, it's... they can't just _kill_ it. It's a goddamn miracle of nature!"

Raleigh looked to Mako for help, but she just tightened her lips and looked... upset. From that single glance, he knew that she agreed with him, but she felt for Chuck.

"Where would they take it? They can't exactly send it back to Asia." Sighing as this argument had no effect, he let his clipboard dangle at his thigh and went very gently for the throat. "It's too dangerous, Chuck. The order will be to put it down so as not to risk any further loss of life."

The poor guy wanted to protest. Raleigh saw it in every line of that well-stacked body. But Chuck also didn't want anyone to get hurt, anymore than he wanted to be having such a good time while people were being killed left and right.

Jesus, this kid.

Geiszler, of course, further muddied the waters, though the jerk did his best to not sound confrontational. "I have a stock of tranquilizer. Enough to put him out. I think I know a way--"

"No." Thank God, but Mako stepped forward and joined the struggle. "Absolutely not."

Chuck, clearly torn, remained silent.

"Sheriff, please." Goddammit, now even Geiszler looked pleading and desperate, rather than arrogant and offensive. "Listen, I know I'm a selfish, rich asshole and my judgment isn't always... compatible with anyone else's, okay?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Go on."

"Really? No protest at all?"

Mako's stare could stop a moose in its rampaging tracks. It certainly worked on the professor.

"Fine. Just... if we can neutralize him--"

Raleigh threw up his hands, nearly flinging his trusty clipboard away. "How the hell are we supposed to neutralize a thirty foot crocodile?"

"We lure it on land and pump it full of drugs."

"To what purpose?" He huffed. "Again, where exactly is it supposed to go where it's not a danger?"

"Look, I know of an empty oil tanker in Portland." Amping back up to his usual hyperactive levels, Geiszler began to gesticulate wildly. "If we drug him, Fish and Game can take him there and contain him until they figure out what to do. I know of three zoos on the East Coast alone that would kill off their entire reptile section for a shot at displaying a thirty-foot croc."

That... actually wasn't a bad idea. It was, of course, but... goddammit.

Chuck, perhaps sensing his weakening resolve, spoke up quietly. "Raleigh, mate, this croc does have a certain ecological significance, yeah? Isn't that your job? Protecting rare animals?"

Gritting his jaw, he tried not to snap. "Including deputies. And you."

Flushing a bit, the poor guy waved that one off. "I get that. I do. But...." A step closer. "Mate, if it's possible to take him alive, don't you have an obligation to at least try it?"

That was low. Almost as low as Raleigh reminding Chuck that lives were at stake, knowing it was a weak spot in the kid's defenses.

He sighed. "And if it's not possible?"

Thankfully, Geiszler interrupted before Chuck could suck him in with those goddamn speaking eyes of his.

"But it is. We can lure him up on the beach. I brought enough net to--"

Shaking off Chuck's earnest look of entreaty, Raleigh scoffed. "No net is gonna hold this thing."

"--to tangle it up long enough for the drugs to kick in. That's all I was gonna say. We sit everyone in the beds of the trucks, and if he somehow gets loose, you just take off. He's fast on the attack, but he can't run that fast for that long."

He chewed this over, looking for the gristle so he could spit out the whole mouthful. Please, God, there had to be a huge flaw in the plan that he just wasn't seeing. Frustrated, he glanced at Mako but saw much the same look on her face as he knew was on his own.

Chuck took another step closer. "Mako does have that bigass grenade launcher if something goes wrong, mate."

To his distracted amusement, the sheriff actually brightened at the prospect of getting to use the launcher she hadn't exactly shown off as they unloaded but hadn't exactly hidden, either.

Geiszler stepped further away from the tent. "One try, officer? Please?"

But it wasn't the professor's pleading expression that held Raleigh's attention.

"Raleigh?"

_Goddammit, Chuck._

Sighing, he closed his eyes. "How exactly do you plan to lure it in?"

He didn't have to see either expression. Geiszler's suddenly bright tone said it all.

"I am so, so glad you asked."


	22. Chapter 22

Mako took great personal satisfaction in watching Geiszler's helicopter lift off with one of Hannibal Chau's cows dangling from the drag line secured to the croc-detailed undercarriage.

"Do you have any idea how much I will sue your department for?"

Without bothering to glance back at the goggled criminal bristling at her shoulder, she smiled. "Considering you were planning to feed it to the crocodile while we will do everything in our power to make sure she doesn't get hurt, I imagine... nothing."

Gesturing angrily at the perplexed cow floating just over the disturbed lake, Chau grunted. "You can't take a cow by eminent domain!"

Officer Becket, looking almost as pleased as she felt, shrugged. "We just did. We'll bring her back when we're done."

"Just so you assholes know, I'm rooting for the crocodile. I hope it eats every last one of you alive and screaming." Red-faced, the criminal crossed his arms. "Maybe you should arrest me for that, too."

She couldn't help herself. She finally turned to face the lying con artist full-on and smiled brilliantly. "I'll see what I can do." Then, she pivoted and strode away. "Let's move out."

The Kaidanovskys -- who, unless she missed her guess, were silently laughing their Russian asses off at the entire ordeal -- stayed behind, but Raleigh, Chuck, and Tendo all piled back into the boat where Raleigh immediately pulled out his walkie to contact Geiszler in the chopper.

"Is this gonna work, professor?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. There's not much drag. If I can keep her from swinging, we should get her to the rally point easy."

"Good."

Tendo started them off toward the cove where they'd decided to set up their trap. Mako stood up by him, watching the chopper lead the way, grinning helplessly at the dangling, confused cow occasionally lowing into the wind.

Raleigh and Chuck sat at the back of the boat, close enough to hear each other over the motor noise but not quite close enough for the growing attraction she'd been, in turns, both amused and worried by. This late in the day, she was inclined to be optimistic.

If they both lived, of course.

As if on cue, Chuck roused himself and shot Raleigh a sincere look. "We're doing the right thing, yeah?"

Raising an eyebrow, Raleigh looked back. "Tell me that when it's eating you."

She smirked and turned to face the front again to hide the expression. Tendo, of course, saw it and had to hide his own grin.

"Nice, mate. Real nice. You got a real soft touch about you, don't you?"

Okay, she couldn't help herself. She glanced back again, then blushed and looked away at the blatantly flirtatious smirk on Raleigh's mouth.

And found herself hoping they got the chance to make good on it.

Soon enough, they reached the specified cove and pulled the boat in as close to shore as possible without a dock. Tendo cut the motor, then jumped over the side to drag the boat up further, quickly joined by both Chuck and Raleigh, neither of whom seemed to mind being soaked from the thighs down at this point.

The chopper stayed well out in the cove, slowly lowering until the cow's hooves touched the water and she kicked with surprise. Lowering again when she settled, Geiszler craned his head out the window to gauge exactly how far down he needed to hover to keep the cow in the drink up to its belly but high enough that she didn't have to strain to keep her head out of the water.

Raleigh, standing with his arms crossed beside Mako, shook his head. "I hate to say it, but the more she thrashes, the better."

She wrinkled her nose, then took the walkie from him to talk directly to Geiszler. "Professor? If she gets tired, pull her up. We don't know how well she can swim."

"Roger."

Rolling her eyes, she handed the walkie back. "Why do I get the feeling he's always wanted to try something like this?"

Chuck, at Raleigh's other side, snorted. "Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't."

She grinned, then looked out over the water at the poor flailing cow. "So what do we do now?"

Shrugging, Raleigh answered just as she suspected. "We wait."

So, while Raleigh went to ensure that every deputy had both a tranq rifle and a real rifle in easy reach and comfortable seats in the beds of the three trucks, Chuck and Mako settled in to do just that.

Wait for the croc.


	23. Chapter 23

Chuck wouldn't admit to being bored, but after all the kerfuffle and debate just to hatch the plan, it did chafe a bit that the goddamn croc couldn't even be arsed to show.

On one hand, the nervy readiness had faded away after the first half-hour, and he and Raleigh had somewhat awkwardly started to talk about random things. Raleigh's brother Yancy and their sibling shenanigans was a surprisingly amusing way to pass the time, and his sister Jazmine sounded like a right pistol.

Although Chuck had to disagree with Raleigh's assertion that drinking milk from the jug, as Yancy was wont to do, was disgusting whilst drinking _orange juice_ right from the jug, as was Raleigh's vice, should be fine because the juice's acidic content would kill any germs. Fuck that. Drinking from any receptacle that anyone else had to use was gross as fuck, and Chuck would defend that hill to the death.

Just common courtesy, dammit.

And he was a bit concerned by how Raleigh pleasantly but definitely refused to talk about his father in anything but the most vague terms. It seemed the poor sod had written "he left" on his heart, then closed the book on that chapter of his life. Chuck was no one's idea of a shrink, but that couldn't be an entirely healthy way to deal.

But it wasn't his business. Though he rather wanted it to be.

At one point, they'd even gathered around Mako's cell phone to look at pictures of her mum's apparently famous gardens. Chuck had to admit that the woman had the green touch. It wasn't just the thriving quantity and profusion of flowers and greenery but the clever arrangement of them. Her accessorizing with arbors here and a rustic old gazebo there and wrought iron chairs on a little flagstone break over there was both inspired and somehow Zen. The pictures looked like stills from a wellness retreat brochure, and that wasn't even counting the vegetable gardens and fruit trees.

Or the rock garden, which Mako blushingly admitted was hers to tend and hers alone.

On the other hand, after almost two hours whilst the sun went down, even the cow dangling from the chopper looked bored as fuck, and Chuck was dismally aware that the croc could jump out right now and grab any one of them before they could so much as yawn a protest. Just as he debated the wisdom of finally sitting down on the very end of the nearest truck bed, Raleigh sighed and pulled out his walkie.

"Geiszler? Looks like that's that. Good plan; bad bait."

Geiszler's voice came back sounding ridiculously annoyed. "I am seriously disappointed by the efficacy of this cow. Maybe Mr. Chau gave us a defective one?"

Chuck snorted, and Mako shook her head. All-business, Raleigh ignored them.

"He didn't _give_ us anything."

The sigh probably only sounded so harsh because it was right in the speaker. "Another half-hour? Please?"

But Raleigh shook his head. "She's not kicking anymore, Geiszler. She's done."

Chuck couldn't help but chime in on that one, bending close to the walkie. "Frankly, mate, she looks like a really big teabag, yeah?"

"Wait. Wait just a...."

Raleigh rolled his eyes. "No more waiting, professor. We're packing up before Florida Fish and Game gets here and takes over."

"No, I mean... I think I'm getting something on sonar."

Chuck and Mako both stepped closer to the walkie, which was conveniently closer to Raleigh.

"I think he's coming."

Calling over his shoulder, Raleigh gestured out toward the cove. "Lights, people. I want it to look like Yankee Stadium out there."

Everything from handheld flashlights to actual spotlights came on all at once, the sudden glare turning the landscape and the lake surreal, like a theatre set instead of a real place.

"Do you have visual confirmation?"

After a short pause, Geiszler came back sounding less unsure. "No, but that's definitely a croc's signal. He hasn't surfaced yet, but he is coming."

Jaw tightening, Raleigh looked from Chuck to Mako, then nodded and turned to the deputies still in the trucks. "Tranq rifles at the ready. Aim for the neck and underbelly. No way will a tranq dart pierce the hide on its back." Turning back to the cove, he held up the walkie again. "Okay, Geiszler. Lead him in. If he gets near enough to strike, pull her up."

"This is gonna work, guys." Unfortunately, to Chuck's ears, the little wiggler sounded entirely too excited for the severity of the situation. "Wait... I think he's surfacing. Can you guys see anything?"

A few pairs of binoculars went up, but Chuck just peered into the surreal distance, trying not to be fooled by the light's reflection on the lake's flat, tranquil surface. Soon enough, one of the deputies -- one of the triplets, he thought -- called out a confirmation and pointed. If he squinted just right, he could make out a few dark bumps in the otherwise smooth-lit water.

"Confirm, guys. I see it now. It's about thirty feet behind the cow and moving in. I'm bringing him in to you now."

The previously steady drone of the chopper's rotors cycled up a bit, and the cow abruptly started flailing again as she was dragged forward through the water. Throwing her head up, she let out a weirdly indignant noise.

Mako bit her lip nervously. "She's mooing."

Raleigh shrugged. "You wouldn't?"

Geiszler's voice was definitely prematurely triumphant now. "She's also kicking. He's coming in faster now. I'm gonna speed up a bit."

Raleigh was quick on the walkie. "Careful. Don't speed up so much she starts to drag."

"I got it, I got it."

It was eerie to watch Raleigh and Mako roll their eyes in sync. Not that Chuck blamed them. He was pretty sure his own eyes rolled right with them.

"We're almost to the shallows, guys. Are you ready?"

Raleigh looked back at the deputies, all of whom had their rifles at their shoulders. Mako held her launcher at the ready, though she didn't quite dare point it prematurely. Chuck, who'd been around guns his entire life, thanks to his old man's military obsession, aimed his own tranq rifle with confidence. If he got a shot, he fully intended to take it.

"Uh-oh. He's... what is he...?"

Before Geiszler could finish his question, the easily visible croc lurched at the kicking cow, and the chopper suddenly roared as it tried to pull up. Chuck caught his breath, but the pull-up was just enough for the cow to clear those murderous teeth, and the croc splashed down whilst the cow squalled in terror.

And swung. Swung far too much.

The chopper dipped drunkenly as Geiszler tried to compensate for the sudden drag, but just as it looked like he might have it, the ring bolted to the helicopter's belly broke. Flung wide by momentum, the cow dropped like a boulder off to one side, but that was it for the chopper's stability. Before anyone could do anything but cry out, it dipped so far the other way that the blades chopped into the lake's glassy surface. One snapped off and flew away into the woods.

And with that, the whole works dropped into the shallows and died in a heap.

"Jesus. Professor, are you okay?" Silence over the walkie. Jaw clenched, Raleigh tried again. "Newt?"

Mako, the launcher raised now, scanned the dying ripples. "Where's the croc?"

But Chuck... Chuck was too busy cursing himself. He was the one who wanted to take the croc alive. He had agreed to the plan and encouraged Raleigh and Mako to do the same.

Jesus, this was all his fault.

Fuck the walkie. "Newt! Goddammit, Geiszler, you answer me right now!"

The door closest to the shore thumped, then kicked open and off its hinges, and there the little wanker sat, dazed and glasses askew but very much alive. A collective sigh of relief went up from the entire crowd, though no one lowered their weapons.

"Where is it?" Geiszler didn't exactly sound scared, but neither did he sound like a day at the beach. "Did it swim back out?"

"I can't see a damn thing." Frustrated, Raleigh holstered the walkie and swung his rifle up. "Lose the tranq guns, deputies. I want live ammo only. Newt, do you see anything from out there?"

After a long, tense moment, the professor pointed off to his left. "There, maybe? I think I see his tail."

Every rifle swung that way, which was, of course, when the goddamn croc struck. Not from the side but right through the bashed open door where Geiszler would have been sitting if he hadn't crashed. Shouting, the little wanker flailed and fell backward out of the chopper into the water.

"Newt!"

Chuck hurried to the water's edge, his tranq rifle at the ready, but Mako kept right on going out into the lake until she was in up to her knees.

"Jesus, Mako, get back! Raleigh, mate, get her--"

"I have him covered." Her back stiff with resolve, she refused to budge, the launcher steady in her careful grip. "Newt??"

Just as Chuck was reminding himself of the stupidity of wading out even further than her and swishing his hands around in the water in blind hope of finding the wanker, said wanker cleared the surface with a gasp and a shout. Another sigh made the rounds as the poor, soaked sod climbed back onto the lone undamaged pontoon and huddled around himself.

"Where is it? Wait, sheriff, why are you in the--"

Jesus, the croc was spooky-fast. It lurched up right in Mako's face before they even knew it was in the shallows. She shouted and fired a round as she fell backward, but it went over the croc's head and seemed to only piss it off. Chuck was in the water and hauling her up by her belt before he could think better of it. Then, they both hauled ass to the nearest truck.

Raleigh leapt in before them on the run and, with Tendo's help, hauled them both in as the tires spit gravel and the truck lurched forward. Several rifles went off, little pink tufts flying every which way as they either bounced off that knobby hide or stuck in the few vulnerable places.

Too slow. Jesus, too slow. Because that giant fucking crocodile was gaining.

The powerful legs bunched and hurled it forward, and Mako jerked back with a cry as those enormous teeth gnashed at her boot. Oh, thank God, but when it fell away, it lost ground and wasn't fast enough to make it up.

Chuck perched his ass on the side of the truck bed, raised his rifle, took aim in case the croc exposed its underside again, and...

...went tumbling over the edge as the driver hit a bump. Fuck, the ground wasn't nearly as forgiving as the water, and he hit hard. The rifle went flying, and though he knew he had to get up and run, he couldn't just yet.

"Chuck!"

He heard the rough crunch of gravel and a heavy thud and managed to roll his muzzy head enough to see Raleigh picking himself up from where he'd apparently thrown himself out of the truck, which skidded to a stop even as he watched. And then, everything was blocked out by the crocodile's bulk between him and safety.

Shit. Shit, what the fuck was he doing laying here?

His head cleared, and he shoved to his feet. After a quick glance told him his gun was gone for the duration, he snatched up the club of a branch that had probably dumped him out of the truck and brandished it.

Raleigh fired round after round at the croc, his face pale but set as he advanced on it. Another truck joined the fray, its load of deputies firing almost constantly until the croc backed away, roaring and lashing. The bullets wouldn't penetrate, but they must at least hurt.

Unfortunately, as the big bastard turned to run back into the lake, that giant dinosaur tail spun with it, and Chuck took the full force of it right in the bread basket. His breath exploded out of him, and he was airborne on a cacophony of shouts and weapons fire. He came down hard, in the water but not deep enough for it to have cushioned him. Groaning, he tried to roll to his hands and knees.

"Jesus, Chuck! Get out of the--" Raleigh's panicked shout cut off. Then: "Fuck, _run!_ Swim to Newt!"

Shaking off some of the latest bout of confusion, he looked toward the shore and saw the croc bearing down on him. Fuck. Oh, sweet Jesus meek and mild, he didn't want to be eaten alive. His father would never forgive himself. Neither would Pentecost. And oh, his poor, poor mum--

"Chuck, swim to me!" That was Newt, screeching from somewhere behind him. "They can't see underwater! Go under and swim out to me!"

There might have been another option, but Chuck didn't have time to consider it. Rolling, he half-dove clumsily into the deeper water and tried to stay close to the bottom as he swam. Jesus, but it was dark under the surface. Which was probably a good thing, since it would further limit the croc's vision, but it was unnerving after the surreal stage-lighting going on up in the real world.

He didn't dare look back, but it felt like the croc was gaining -- it would definitely swim faster than him-- so he detoured from his straight course and headed for a branchless tree standing tall, still rooted in the lake's bed. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to dodge behind it just as his sense of the croc's titanic weight flowed past him. He caught the motion of churning legs and had a terrifyingly good visual of that horrible fucking tail undulating through the water not two meters away, and then it was past.

His chest hurt. Part of it was that the fucking croc had damn near stoved in his ribs with that fucking tail, but part of it was the burning need for air. Grunting, he kicked off the lake bed, but felt something catch tight around his ankle. Jesus, what the... what the fuck else, now?

The tree's roots. His goddamn shoe was caught in the tree's goddamn tentacle nest of roots, and he was running out of air. And the croc was God knew where.

Fuck, the croc was right fucking there!

He didn't even have time to duck as that gaping maw opened wide and clamped down on the tree trunk on the opposite side. It lashed its head back and forth, and Chuck cowered in on himself, feeling those giant, sharp-as-fuck teeth catch at his arms and thighs as it tried to just bite through the goddamn trunk. Kicking furiously, he shouted silently as he felt the string break and his shoe loosened around his foot. He was free, and he shoved off the tree trunk and toward the surface with a speed born of absolute desperation.

His chest hurt. It would cave in on itself any second now.

And then he broke the surface of the water and hands flailed at him. "Chuck!" rang out from seemingly everywhere, and he gasped as he damn near went back under. Finally, he coordinated himself enough to grab onto the hands still trying to catch hold of him, and though they didn't have much strength behind them, they were enough to help him up out of the water and onto something solid.

Newt's chopper. The pontoon.

"Chuck, Jesus, are you okay?" The poor sod sounded almost as terrified as Chuck felt. "Chuck?"

But it was a different shout of his name that brought him back from the fog. He looked across the appalling stretch of water between the chopper and the beach and there was Raleigh, right at the edge, his heart in his eyes and his rifle in his hands.

"I'm okay, mate." He wasn't. At all. Even that near-shout hurt his chest, and he couldn't help but put a hand to his sternum and gasp. "Where is it?"

"Fuck if I know. Look, we're gonna come get you guys. We're working on it, okay?"

Geiszler slumped, clearly relieved by the reassurance, but Chuck shook his head. "Fuck that, Raleigh. You stay right fucking there. No sense all of us getting eaten."

"Chuck, goddammit--"

The goddamn jack-in-the-box crocodile from hell lurched up out of the water into the chopper's cabin space, and without consulting on it, Newt and Chuck both leapt off the pontoon and swam toward shore. If they'd had time to plan, they probably could've thought of something better, but somehow, the element of surprise worked, and soon enough, Chuck felt his feet gain purchase in the rocky shallows.

A few lurching steps, and he practically fell into Raleigh's arms, gasping and sputtering. He looked around for Newt and only let himself completely slump when he saw Mako helping the little wiggler up and out onto the beach, too.

Exhausted and aching, he let Raleigh hold him up even whilst he craned his head around to scan the lake. Not that they'd been able to see the bastard any other time.

Frankly, it was starting to piss Chuck off. At this point, he wasn't even sure he'd care if Mako blew its goddamn head off.

But as he settled enough to actually look, he realized the croc wasn't hiding at all. In fact, it had wedged itself into the helicopter's cabin and... oh, shit. It was stuck.

And _pissed_ about it.

Roaring and thrashing -- Chuck could finally hear it as the rushing in his ears died down -- the bane of their existence actually managed to lift the wreckage enough to throw it forward a meter or so, then did it again.

Mako lifted her launcher and took aim. "Enough. No one else is getting hurt."

Newt, of course, suddenly came to life. "What? No! No, look, he's trapped!"

Another roar and lurch, and the damn thing was less than two meters from the beach. Mako firmed her grip, her finger on the trigger.

"Sheriff, please, look at him! He's not getting out of that! It's not a net, but it's working!"

Another grinding, roaring lurch, and the chopper's wrecked hull actually landed on the rocky scree of the shoreline. Everyone jumped back, rifles raised, but... nothing.

Panting heavily, the croc abruptly lay still.

"Wait, look." Geiszler, because he still had no sense of self-preservation, stepped closer to it. "Look, the drugs are kicking in. He's done."

Chuck kept his mouth shut. Now that it wasn't currently trying to eat him, he didn't particularly want to watch the beast's head explode, but neither did he want it to break loose and kill them all. It was out of his hands and, if he was honest, he was relieved. Wet and miserable and hurting and scared shitless, but relieved.

Raleigh, who had put himself between Chuck and the croc without Chuck even noticing, tightened his jaw. "Mako."

But still, she hesitated, and Chuck didn't blame her. It wasn't rampaging right now. It was trapped and drugged, and killing it now would be... cheap, somehow.

But lives were still at stake.

"Really?" Her voice sounded small. Until now, her voice had never sounded small.

Sighing heavily, Raleigh turned and gestured at one of the deputies. Suddenly, Chuck realized the bloke had put down his rifle at some point and now needed another one. He wanted to say something. Jesus, it was trapped, but....

"Officer, no." Pleading now, Geiszler actually put himself within snapping distance of that giant mouth. "C'mon, please! He's done, I tell you. Look at him! He's got nothing left!"

Raleigh took aim.

"You don't have to do this!"

He squeezed the trigger. The pop of the shot silenced Geiszler, who stared, almost dazed, at the little pink fluff joining the several others around the croc's mouth, neck, and underbelly.

One more tranq dart, just to make sure.

And Chuck was officially a goner, because right then, Officer Raleigh Becket from the Maine Department of Fish and Game was the most beautiful son of a bitch in the world.

Thus, he didn't even scream like a little girl whilst the water erupted in a giant splash and Geiszler was jerked, yowling fit to raise the dead, back into the lake. Raleigh shouted and ran for the bloke and just managed to snag a hand. As suddenly as it appeared, whatever it was disappeared, and Raleigh hauled the poor wanker out of the water yet again, this time limping.

"Two! I think there's two!" The poor guy's lips were blue and trembling, either with delayed reaction or with blood loss as his leg bled copiously through the gaping hole in his trousers. "I think there's _two!"_

Mako, calm and poised, grunted. "I can see that."

"Sheriff, sheriff, there's another one. There's two!"

A faint thread of irritation entered her tone. "I. Can. Count."

A swish -- probably a tail -- and the new croc rushed up out of the water again, but before anyone could panic, Mako let fly. The shot was much louder than Raleigh's tranq rifle, and suddenly, gobbets and pieces of meat rained down on the beach, what was left of the carcass bobbing gently on the ripples it had raised.

Slowly lowering the launcher, Mako turned to Raleigh and Chuck and smiled softly. "Back to one."

And finally, _finally,_ Chuck let his knees unhinge and had himself a well-deserved sitdown on the goddamn beach. He was officially done for the week.

To his pleased surprise, Raleigh sat down right beside him and grinned softly.

Then, as one, they looked out over the water at the giant killer croc sticking out of a helicopter on the shore. Neither said a word. They didn't need to.

That particular picture was worth _way_ more than a thousand of them.


	24. Chapter 24

For the most part, Raleigh was perfectly happy to sit back with Chuck and let Florida Fish and Game take over. There was a dicey moment when the crew first arrived, guns raised, but Mako pleasantly and with a determinedly neutral expression informed them that the guns wouldn't be necessary, as her crew had already captured the creature. With a helicopter.

Never once did her mouth twitch on a grin.

But he was tired, and he knew Chuck could probably use some medical attention -- and would likely refuse it -- and the EMTs Mako had called already had Newt strapped into a gurney at the back of an ambulance. He really couldn't afford to just sit around for the rest of the night. No matter how much he wanted to.

So, he helped Chuck up and walked with him over to where they were just getting ready to load the professor into the ambulance. Apparently, they'd already hit the little bastard with the good drugs, because Professor Geiszler was feeling no pain, even with his leg bandaged all to hell and propped up on pillows. Mako was already nearby, talking with the ambulance driver.

"Hey, guys! Guys! They're gonna take it to Portland, just like I said. As soon as I'm checked into a room, I'ma start callin' zoos. 'Zoos' is a funny word. Say it. Zoos. Zoooooos."

Chuck shook his head. Raleigh rolled his eyes.

"We're ready to roll." The EMT raised his eyebrows. "There's room for one more. Someone really should come with him. He's gonna be out of it for a while."

Raleigh felt his grin tighten, and he shot an involuntary glance at Chuck. "Uh... I have a ton of paperwork to... fill out...?"

Chuck, who definitely caught the glance but didn't seem to know what to do with it, shrugged. "I'm staying. I wanna say goodbye to the lake, yeah?"

Raleigh really, really didn't want to leave right now. He wanted to... talk some more. Clear some things up.

With Chuck. Because he really should be beyond fooling himself at this point. The surge inside him when the snarky but endearing Australian jerk cleared the surface just as Raleigh had feared the worst told him more than he needed to know about how he felt.

It didn't matter that Chuck would be going back to New York, leaving Raleigh behind in Maine. It didn't matter that they were from opposite worlds and had almost diametrically opposed career paths.

It just didn't matter. He didn't want Chuck to go. Not without... telling him.

Thankfully, just as the EMT began to settle into a "really, guys?" look and Geiszler started to look sad that no one still wanted to play with him, Mako sighed.

"Okay, fine." She rolled her eyes. "I'll send Tendo with him."

A smirk quirked his mouth. For a second there, he'd been almost positive she would volunteer to go herself.

She walked away for a moment but soon came back with Tendo in tow. With orders to report any change in Geiszler's condition -- and to not stay too late at the hospital because his wife was probably missing him after a three day hiatus -- she helped him up into the ambulance. As they started to load Geiszler in, the little professor suddenly became animated again.

"Sheriff. Sheriff sheriff sheriff."

She blinked slowly. "What."

Pawing at the air, he tried to find her hand and touch it. She kept it well out of reach.

"Sheriff, you got to fire your grenade launcher. How was it? Did you like it?"

It had been over a decade since Raleigh had last seen _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas,_ but he'd recognize that wicked, spreading smirk anywhere. It looked both sinister and adorable on Mako's elfin features.

"It. Was. _Awesome."_

Delighted by the admission -- though Raleigh privately thought that, if Geiszler remembered later, he'd more likely be pissed that the second croc was now in pieces -- Newt flailed toward her as if he wanted a hug. The EMTs tactfully chose that moment to load him in and close the doors.

Grinning, Raleigh elbowed her. "I imagine you'll have reports to fill out and the like?"

Uh-oh. Now she was giving _him_ the almost shy smile, the look from under her eyelashes. "I will, Officer Becket."

"Well, if you need any help with that, badge numbers or anything official, just gimme a call, okay?"

Still smiling softly, she put out her hand. "I'll do that."

Chuck put out his hand, too. "So, what did Chau have to say for himself?"

Right. Raleigh had completely forgotten Mako's terse radio conversation with the Kaidanovskys, during which she may or may not have given them permission to _extract_ information as they saw fit.

But her smile merely turned to a grin as she shook hands. "He says he didn't tell us about the second crocodile -- a mere twenty-footer -- because he figured we'd blow its head off, too."

Chuck snorted. "So he's not a headcase; he's a psychic."

She grinned wider, then suddenly pulled the big guy in for an actual hug. She murmured something in Japanese, too low for Raleigh to make out, then let go and walked away. Chuck watched her go with an oddly melancholy grin, but Raleigh watched Chuck. He couldn't help himself. He liked what he saw too damn much.

Then, the poor guy turned back and forced a smile. No dimples, though. "So."

Uh-oh. That was a "getting ready to say goodbye" tone. Suddenly wanting to put that moment off as long as possible, Raleigh racked his brain for something to distract him.

"So you must be pretty stoked. You'll be credited with helping Fish and Game trap an ancient crocodile that you personally identified."

This smile looked a lot more real, what with the dimples bracketing it. "Right? Suddenly, I don't dread the Big Conversation half as much as I did three days ago."

Softening, he grinned fondly. "The museum is lucky to have you. I hope they know it."

The smile turned into the more familiar cocky smirk. "Are you taking the piss? I'm buying every newspaper in sight and papering the goddamn lobby with them."

He laughed, ridiculously glad for the big dork's sarcastic streak. He was pretty sure even Yancy, who was as salty as the state of Utah, would approve.

But his amusement faded as another topic of conversation eluded him and it became obvious that the goodbyes were, again, just around the corner.

"If... if I'm ever in New York...?"

Those light-colored eyes brightened. "Yeah, mate. Definitely ring me up."

"Yeah. I, uh, your number's in the record."

"Right."

Dammit. Another silence to fill before it became final.

Then, inspiration struck. "Hey, do you want a ride back to town? Tendo brought you your stuff, right?"

"Oh." One of the Wei triplets, who had just walked up to hand off yet another packet of paperwork, stopped short. "Sorry, officer, but we just loaded up your truck, including the front seat. Do you want us to--?"

Flustered now, Chuck backtracked and looked away. "No, mate, that's not... I was gonna say goodbye to the lake anyway, yeah?"

Shit. If there had been a window of opportunity, it had just closed. Sighing, Raleigh took the offered info packet and watched, frustrated and tired, as the deputy strolled away. Then, because there didn't seem to be anything left to say, he put out his free hand. Smiling crookedly, Chuck took it and gave two slow shakes.

"See you around, Raleigh."

Right. Because Maine and New York crossed paths all the damn time. But he forced a smile.

"Goodbye, Chuck."

He didn't want to do it, but he let go. Then, he turned and walked away.

Yancy would call him seven shades of stupid. And would call Jazmine, who would threaten to fly all the way from Alaska to thwap him on the back of the head.

Grumbling to himself, he climbed into his truck, then just sat there. Maybe there was still time. Maybe there was still something he could do. Cocking his head, he looked in the rearview mirror, but Chuck was gone.

"So, is my gaydar really that fucked or is there no such thing as making a pass in Maine?"

Chuck _wasn't_ gone. Chuck was leaning against his passenger door and smirking nervously through the open window.

Raleigh felt the smile take over his whole face before he could even try to contain it, then reached over and hauled the big duffel and whatever else filled up the seat over to the middle.

A raised ginger eyebrow joined the smirk. "Really? That's all you got? Just slide over your duffel bag?"

Rolling his eyes even though his stomach was doing somersaults, he reached over and unlocked the door. "Get in the goddamn truck, Hansen."

"Real fucking charming, mate." Despite the snark, the big ginger jerk wedged his rolly suitcase in the bed of the truck, then did as commanded. "You got something specific in mind?"

He really, really wanted to waggle his eyebrows. But Yancy would never forgive him, so he shrugged instead. "There's a good bar in town. The glasses are clean and everything. Why, you got a better plan?"

The smirk turned... oh. _Oh._

"The museum comped my room at the B&B until Sunday."

Had his jeans always been too tight across the crotch? Because his jeans were suddenly too tight across the crotch. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Hansen?"

"Oi, you're the older one here."

Shaking his head, both amused and annoyed and very, very interested in the interior of Chuck's room at the B&B, Raleigh started the truck. "I already miss the crocodile."

Oh, that look. Jesus, he'd face down a _hundred_ thirty-foot killer crocs to be on the receiving end of so smoldering a look from the crazy, one-shoed paleontologist who'd stormed into his life out of nowhere.

"If you like being bitten, mate, just say the word."

And just like that, Raleigh Becket felt the need for a sudden and complete vacation. Until Sunday.

And if he was lucky, maybe even longer than that.


	25. CODA

Hannibal Chau had made his bones by always being in the right place at the right time. It was his gift, his natural ability that helped him thrive where others fell flat on their stupid faces.

For the past three days, that gift had utterly deserted him, and for a good, long while, he'd been certain his run was up. But now, thanks to a change of heart by the sheriff of this godforsaken county, he was a free man.

Well, sort of. The cunning bitch had called customs and Interpol to report his location and all sorts of dangerous little details that would keep him from... er... _importing_ anything for a long time to come. And the goddamn croc being taken alive meant he'd never make good on all the work and sacrifice to feed it up and keep it close so he'd have sole dibs on the eventual, gargantuan corpse. But she hadn't actually thrown him in jail, so he'd take what he could get.

So, now that the freaky Russians were gone, he strolled out onto his sun-warmed dock with his overalls rolled up to his knees and his feet bare, a bag of food pellets in hand. At the very end, he sat down and dangled his feet in the cool, untroubled water. One pellet. Two. Three.

Soon enough, he saw the little ripples in the water that meant he wouldn't have to resume his shipping agenda any time soon, anyway.

"There you are. Come get your dinner."

Yes, he hadn't told the goddamn po-po about the other croc because he knew they'd kill it, too. It was true enough. But he also hadn't told because he didn't want them guessing that the two giants had been a breeding pair.

Or that Chau had already started taming the hatchlings now swimming trustingly around his feet, snapping up pellets, one even nipping at his pinky toe.

"That's right. Get your supper. Daddy's got nine more just like it."

He didn't mind. He knew all about sacrifice.

Hannibal Chau was in it for the long haul.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God help you if you made it this far. I know this was all a bunch of nonsense, but it practically wrote itself, and I just couldn't help myself.
> 
> Thanks to estei-feist again for giving it a readthru and making very, very good pointers. And for squeeing with me over this ridiculousness.
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
